


Lost Boy

by Zzzara



Series: Lost Boys [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Based On a Troye Sivan Song, Bottom Blaise Zabini, Bottom Harry Potter, Bottoming from the Top, Boys Kissing, Creature Fic, Creature Inheritance, Depressed Draco Malfoy, Depressed Harry Potter, Depression, Drarry, Dream Sex, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Friends, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, First Time, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Grief/Mourning, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Jealousy, Lost Boy Troye Sivan, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Masturbation in Shower, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Mind Sex, Mutual Pining, POV First Person, POV Harry Potter, Pining, Pining Harry Potter, Rescue, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Top Blaise Zabini, Top Harry Potter, Topping from the Bottom, Troye, Troye Sivan Song inspired, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Veela, Wet Dream, lost boy, magical sex, sexual dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:05:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zzzara/pseuds/Zzzara
Summary: I'm just a lost boyNot ready to be found"I've got you, Malfoy," I am repeating again and again, my eyes prickling, "I've got you." I have no idea of what I'm doing, if this is okay, or if it should be done, I just feel an overwhelming pity flooding me, the urge to protect, and I must let it out. Tears are running down my face, I don't know whether I'm doing it for him or for myself, but I must let this out.





	Lost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> ********** !!!!! WARNINGS: This fic deals with Depression, [implied] Loss and Grief/Mourning and Suicide Attempts, and also contains Implied/Referenced Character Death. Also there are scenes that may be regarded as those containing the elements of Dubious Consent !!!!! **********
> 
> This work belongs to the series "Lost Boys" and is followed by the work "Empty Swimming Pools".
> 
> The mood and the title are borrowed from Troye Sivan's song "Lost Boy", which has also been an inspiration for writing this fic [ Troye is my never ceasing inspiration and I strongly recommend to listen to the song before reading this fic - it would give you a feeling of immersion ].  
> *it seems a summary including credits for Troye is firmly stuck with me for the time being... but what can I do? He is so talented and I love him so much, and all his songs so incredibly Drarry! I simply cannot stay away from his songs and not transmit them into Drarry-fics.*
> 
> Eternally grateful to Ann (Poppyprn on AO3, @nottooldtodream on Tumblr) - my wonderful beta. Working with you is a pleasure, thank you so much! <3
> 
> [Disclaimer: all characters belong to J.K. Rowling; here I don't make any profit whatsoever; I write for my own entertainment.]

**Lost Boy**

**I**

Sound of his footsteps is loud in the deserted corridor. It is retreating rapidly. Trying not to make a sound, I speed up on my tiptoes and peer around the corner. Honestly, this is idiotic, but I cannot help myself. It's not my fault he behaves like an utter weirdo. Yes, here I am: stalking Malfoy. This is the 6th year all over again.

He stops in front of the last door to the right. Placing the tip of his wand into the lock, he unwards it and disappears inside. Cursing myself again for not having the Cloak right now, I creep along the wall to press my ear to the door. Closing my eyes, I hold my breath and listen. The wood is thick and it's pointless. Whatever he is doing, I can't hear any sound. There is no help to that, I place my palm onto the door handle and press as carefully as I can. When the door gives, I push it gingerly - just so - peering inside, which isn't helping, still I can't see anything. I open it wider and see something that looks like an edge of a frame at the opposite side of the room. Cautiously sticking my head inside, I finally see: Malfoy is kneeling on the floor in front of the large framed mirror, which looks exactly like...

_"...it shows the deepest desires of our hearts, Harry..."_

No. Couldn't be... could it?

Burying his face in his hands, Malfoy gives a strangled sob. His shoulders begin shaking, and I stare at the short tufts of his pale hair sticking above his nape.

 _Oh Merlin_ , he is weeping. _Why oh why_ is it always my luck?

I am about to back off and close the door as quietly as I can, when...

"Harry?! Where the hell are you?" Ron's Patronus appears in front of me.

_Fuck._

Whirling around, Malfoy springs on his feet. His face is bewildered, eyes wide in disbelief. He draws his wand.

_No, no that again._

"Come on, bring your arse down to the Great Hall, I'm at dinner." The bastard terrier bounces up and down and dissolves. 

_Fuck, I'll kill you, Ron._

"Malfoy!" I raise my palms to show that I am wandless.

He viciously slices the air with his wand, and I feel hot stinging pain across my cheek.

He is about to strike again when I throw the Shield with a wave of my hand, blocking whatever he sends in my direction.

"Fuck! Stalking me again you bastard?!" His livid face is puffy-eyed and streaked with tears. His tie is askew and shirt-tails are showing from under his waistcoat. Yes, the idiot I am, I'm stalking him again.

Slamming the door shut, I break into the run down the corridor, around the corner, down the steps, turning to the left and all the way down, only stopping to catch my breath before the doors of the Great Hall.

"Where have you been?" Ron asks when I sit down next to him. "What's happened to your face?"

"What?" My hand flies up to my cheek. It stings to the touch and my fingers are stained red when I look at them.

"You are bleeding, what's happened?"

"Nothing." I try to wipe my face with my hand. "Hurt myself."

"If you say so..." Giving me a sceptical look, Ron tucks in his dinner. "Hermione is missing dinner, because she'd rather study than eat ...and you hurt yourself who knows where," he mumbles around a mouthful of potatoes.

I shrug, reaching for the food too, throwing glances at the door and the Slytherin table in turns. Zabini is sitting there alone, leafing through the Prophet. He is the only one at Hogwarts who actually speaks to Malfoy, or rather whom Malfoy speaks to. Unless addressed in classes, Malfoy never speaks these days. With Zabini, however, I sometimes see them together, animatedly discussing something. Or rather Zabini is the 'animated' one, gesturing wide with his hands, making faces at Malfoy, who is almost as lifeless as ever. At least he replies Zabini, using his actual mouth. I've long forgotten how Malfoy responds or pays me any attention. Bastard. Usually he averts his eyes or looks right through me when avoidance is impossible. I thought once that I'm okay with it, and I am! But the prat is so annoying... It's November, and today's been the first time since the beginning of the term when Malfoy actually said anything to me, and we share a dormitory for fuck's sake! What is he up to? Sneaking around, finding the Mirror. I remember his tears-streaked face, his loud sobs in the empty room. They are giving me the sense of déjà-vu. I think should check on the Mirror.

Zabini, whom I realise I've been staring at for several minutes now, looks up from the Prophet and meets my eyes. Before I look away, he grins at me, wiggling his eyebrows, and winks. _Merlin, winks!_

Face burning, I avert my eyes. The fucker is unsettling, to say the least. Only last night I walked in on him in the showers. When he noticed I was looking at his backside (I wasn't looking! I darted a few discreet glances, I swear!), he turned under the spray to face me full-front, spreading his arms wide, offering himself on display.

"Like what you see, Potter?" He mocked, and the only coherent thing I managed was: "Oh, fuck off, Zabini!"

Because the sight of his glistening brown skin, his lean chiselled body was so disconcerting... what else could I possibly say to that? Whatever he may think, I didn't even have the chance to see his cock. Turning hastily away, I begansoaping up myself, feeling his gaze on my back all along. Now the bastard winks at me!

I glance at the door. Malfoy is nowhere to be seen. Recently he often disappeared after classes, skipping dinners, showing up in the Common Room well past midnight. Yes, I'd been staying awake for almost a week now, determined to catch the sneaky prat. The first two days proved ineffective, but on the third night I finally saw him returning - having dozed off in the armchair before the fireplace, that's how I happened to be down there in the Common Room at that hour.

Today it wasn't planned. I was sitting on the windowsill in a deserted corridor when Malfoy walked past me. I was there because I wanted to be alone. Because I feel like shit most of the time and can't stand company. I don't want to talk or think or go anywhere; I want them to leave me alone. Actually, Malfoy and his weird behaviour keep my mind occupied and give me something to think about.

I slid off the windowsill, staying still in the alcove, listening to his retreating footsteps, and then crept after him in the distance. Only to find him weeping in front of the Mirror. Whatever I thought I would find, it wasn't that.

Apparently he isn't coming for dinner.

I stand up. "I'm going to lie down Ron, Don't feel well"

**

When Malfoy enters the dormitory at about two in the morning, I am awake. Trying  not to give myself away, I lie still; of course my nose instantly starts itching and my arm goes numb. I feel the urge to adjust my position. I don't. Ron's monotone snoring is filling the room, while Zabini is breathing almost inaudibly in his sleep. Malfoy is rummaging endlessly in his trunk and I observe his profile, faintly lit by the tip of his wand. His lips are pursed, he is frowning. It suddenly strikes me how gaunt his face is, how his expression is nowhere near that smugness that I've come to associate with Malfoy. Honestly, it feels like the 6th year all over again when he was sneaking around looking like death; and look how it had turned out then. Am I supposed to just drop it now - whatever he is up to? No way.

Retrieving something out of the trunk, he gathers it into the heap and heads to the door. When he opens the door, letting the corridor light in, I realise there is a large towel, a bathrobe and a bag of toiletries in his hands. Well, it makes things easier; I actually thought I'd have to wait until the bastard is asleep.

I wait until the bathroom door down the corridor clicks shut and spring on my feet. I haven't even removed my trainers before going to bed. I pull the curtains of my bed shut and retrieve the Cloak from my pocket, throwing it on. Opening the door, I stop to listen to the sound of water running in the bathroom. Alright. The path is clear.

I am hurrying along the corridors of Hogwarts under the Invisibility Cloak in the middle of the night, and I feel like that boy again: a child, possessed by curiosity and adventure. The room I found Malfoy in - the room with the mirror - I marked it on the Map. Otherwise it would be difficult to find in the bowels of the castle.

The room is flooded with the bright moonlight and completely empty, save for the large covered frame by the window. I tug at the cover and it slides off, revealing the mirror. The Mirror of Erised, I have no doubt. How in hell did Malfoy find it? Dumbledore told me they'd have it removed from the castle; though very little of what Dumbledore told actually proved not to be a lie in the end, I must admit.

Shivers go down my spine at the memory of what had happened in front of that mirror: the shock of seeing the monster's face growing straight out of the man's head. I shake my head, trying to get rid of these thoughts and close my eyes, pulling the cloak off. Moving right in front of the mirror, I take a steadying breath. I have no idea of what I am about to see there. Long ago there were my parents smiling back at me. The deepest and the most desperate desire of my childhood. I am an adult now, and though I miss their presence in my life and always will, somehow I'd reconciled with their absence. I think it had happened there in the forest, a half a year ago, when I was heading to my own death.

Slowly I exhale and open my eyes.

_What?_

There's nothing there - _nothing._

Not even my own reflection in the mirror. The only thing it's showing is the moonlit empty room. I turn around to see the opposite stone wall behind me - exactly as it's reflected in the mirror. Everything is exactly the same, except for there is no _Me_. I wave my hands at the mirror, nothing happens.

Hell if I know what it means, but now I am sure it's not the Mirror of Erised. Okay, fine. I throw the cover back on, hoping Malfoy won't notice the difference when he comes here next time. What does he see there anyway - to break down like that?

When I creep quietly into the dormitory, everyone seems to be asleep. I see Malfoy's form on his bed in the moonlight. He is lying with his back to me, curled on his side into a tight ball. The blanket slid off, revealing fully his bare back and enough of his backside for me to realise he is naked down there as well. The thought is so freaking uncomfortable, it makes me cringe and turn away. Parting the curtains of my bed, I slip inside, climbing into my bed, and only then tugging the cloak off. Trying not to make a sound, I undress and slip under the blanket. Unlike the bastard, I leave my pants on.

I sleep, seeing weird visions of Malfoy in my head which I won't remember in the morning.

**

**II**

When I open my eyes, it is well past nine. Thankfully, it is Saturday, otherwise I'd have missed the first class. I suppose Ron is already down at breakfast. Getting out of the bed, I notice Malfoy is lying in the same position as I saw him at night, only he pulled the blanket up over his head, so that only white strands of his hair are visible, sticking from under the cover. Why wouldn't he close the curtains around his bed? He doesn't give a fuck, I think. In a desperate need of the loo, I dash out of the room. Opening the bathroom door, I bump into Zabini.

"'Morning, Potter." He smirks at me, stepping aside and giving me the once-over. Shit, I feel like I should have put something on, but yeah - I'm only in my pants, like an idiot, in front of Zabini, who is in smart trousers and a jumper and smells fresh and clean and expensive.

"Hi," I mumble, stepping inside.

I feel awkward around Zabini, he unsettles me. Perhaps because he's always so smartly dressed and looks tidy and stylish and cool - the level of cool I would never be able to achieve.

"Any plans for today?" He asks.

What? Honestly, I'm not ready for a small talk with the smug bastard in the middle of the bathroom, wearing nothing but my pants.

"No... I don't know," I reply grumpily and turn to the sink with my back to him, switching the tap on. I am reluctant to piss in his presence. Why wouldn’t he just fuck off?

"Okay, see you around," he says and closes the door behind him.

I have no idea what is this all about. Or maybe I do - a tiny little bit - but I'm not ready to think about it just yet.

"Draco," I hear, entering the dormitory. Zabini shakes Malfoy by the shoulder.

"What?" Malfoy croaks.

I turn my back to them and begin rummaging in my trunk.

"Get up."

Malfoy huffs, saying nothing, and there is rustling of the sheets.

"Draco, fucking get up, will you?"

"Go away."

I put my jeans on and take the jumper.

"You have to eat, come on."

"...not hungry."

"You skipped your lunch and dinner yesterday, you are having your fucking breakfast right fucking _now,_ " Zabini sounds irritated.

I sit down on the bed to lace my boots.

Malfoy is facing the wall, having pulled the blanket over his head.

"Fuck off, Blaise! Leave me the fuck alone."

Shaking his head, Zabini turns to me and throws his hands up in the air. "He is impossible! See?"

I stare at him. With a sigh, he exits the room.

Malfoy is motionless in his bed. I don't think he actually knows I'm here.

I head to the door, glancing in his direction. I must admit, I envy the bastard. To be able to say _'Fuck off'_ to his friend just like that... I really envy him. I’ve just never been able to manage that, and recently needed it so badly.

Ron and Hermione are arguing when I sit next to them at breakfast.

"Hi, guys," I say dutifully, "what's up?"

"I'm leaving Hogwarts after Christmas," Ron says, "and she's mad at me."

"What?"

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it for a while, mate. There's no point for me to be here, I'm wasting time!"

Hermione gives an annoyed sound.

“Er... why all of a sudden?” I ask.

"This is actually a good question.” Hermione's face is set. “He shouldn't skip his NEWTs, that's what I'm telling him, Harry."

"I don't need the NEWTs! The OWLs are more than enough for me. I'm going to work in a joke-shop with George. He's offered me to join the business, isn't it great, Harry?!"

"It is!"

I really think it is, if it makes Ron happy. To hell with the NEWTs, that's what I think. I don't even know why I am here, honestly; for nowhere better to go, I suppose. And Hogwarts feels familiar, my daily routine is fixed and organised for me, I don't have to bother. Out of the three of us, Hermione is the only one, who is here for the actual academic purposes.

"Just because George is spurring you on to make this decision, you are in a hurry to agree!"

Hermione thinks she's talking sense to him. I love Hermione, honestly. But let’s face it, sometimes she is not able to accept the fact that other people have neither her mindset nor her abilities.

"No! Not just because! I always wanted to do something cool, to have fun doing my job. Like Gin. She is only seventeen, and she plays Quidditch for real, for freaking ‘Holyhead Harpies’! Do you think she needs the NEWTs? Do you think she should have stayed at Hogwarts for another year?”

Hermione rolls her eyes so hard... she never took Quidditch seriously.

Yeah... Gin decided to leave Hogwarts for Quidditch, which was really good for her. She offered me to go with her, but we broke up soon after that, and anyway... it’s not what I actually wanted. Though I still don’t know what I want. To feel well, I suppose, but I have no idea how to achieve that. Quidditch for Gin aftee the war was her own way of coping. She flew for hours, she trained hard, she attended every single match. It worked out for her in the end. As for me... I guess I don’t have a way of coping. I just trudge on.

“You wouldn't understand, Hermione!" Ron says in frustration. I don’t think this is going to end well.

"I wouldn't understand _what?_ " There is a dangerous note in Hermione’s voice.

Not looking at them, I'm buttering my toast.

"You wouldn't understand how one might want enjoy their life for _real,_ not just working hard to achieve some high feeble goals in the distant future."

_Oh, shit._

Ron shouldn't have said that. Really shouldn't have said that.

I look up.

Hermione's eyebrows shoot upwards. "I see... you know what... until you grow up, Ron, I really don't understand what I am doing with you."

"Oh, really? Or maybe it's me that has actually grown up?" Ron says angrily. "I want to face real life outside of the school, while _someone_ shuts themselves in the library, hiding behind the books, afraid to admit they are not adult enough for anything but studying!"

 _Oh, fuck_... I cover my face.

I hear the scraping of the chair against the floor as Hermione stands up. I peer through my fingers: she heads to the door, leaving us at the table.

" _Ron..."_ I roll my eyes.

"What?!" He turns to me. "Tell me I'm wrong!"

 _Oh fuck_ , I hate to be in the middle of things again, when my two best friends have a row. My two best friends who are actually _dating_ , which makes things even more cringey.

"Nothing." I bite into my toast. "Just don't drag _me_ into this, okay?" 

Right now I wish I could behave like Malfoy towards my friends. Have I just thought that? How is this my life?

"I won't drag you, I'm leaving after Christmas, that's all," Ron says around a mouthful of food, "unless you want to come with me? I'm sure George would be happy to have you."

"Er... No, Ron. Thanks. It's great, but... thanks, no."

I am not very happy that Ron is leaving, but if that's what he wants... it would be lonely without him. On the other hand... is it not the thing I wished for so often recently? That he would just leave me alone...

Again, the picture of Malfoy in the bed comes to my mind.

"I think we are on our own today," Ron says, scratching his head, "I mean... Hermione is mad at me and..."

"Yeah," I agree.

Apparently, Hermione isn't joining us for Hogsmeade anytime soon.

**

When I return to the dormitory after our trip to Hogsmeade with Ron in the late afternoon, Malfoy is in his bed - exactly as I left him in the morning, except now he is wrapped up in his oversized dark-green bathrobe, so that only the white soles of his feet are showing, and he is facing the room. He starts at the sound of our voices, opening his eyes, and our gazes meet. This is the first time I’ve seen his face since that incident with the mirror. I feel uncomfortable and... guilty, perhaps? His face is gaunt and looks tired... and though I expect to see hatred in his eyes, there is none. There is nothing there. His face is devoid of emotions when he looks at me. Not saying anything, he rolls on his other side, turning his back to us.

**

I am standing in front of the mirror again. I couldn't get it out of my head, deciding to check on it once more tonight, once everyone has gone to bed.

There's nothing there, there's no _Me._ What does it mean? Even ghosts reflect in the mirrors...

The sound of the door handle turning makes me jump. Hastily I throw the Cloak over my head, backing off into the corner.

Malfoy.

He is standing in the doorway, looking around, turning his head slowly as though listening to something. He heard me, I think. I haven't had the time to put the frame cover back on. _Shit._

Approaching the Mirror, he stops, looking down at the heap of the white cloth on the floor and then looks around again. I hold my breath, hoping he isn't going to check the corners. Malfoy isn't planning anything of the sort. He comes close to the Mirror and touches his palms to the surface, resting his forehead against it. Only now I notice he is wearing jeans (jeans!) and a black high-necked woollen sweater. Under the Cloak I am in my pyjamas, for fuck's sake, and the chill is already seeping through my bones. Sliding down on his knees, Malfoy exhales shakily and looks in the mirror. He stays still like that for a while and then begins wiping his face with the back of his hand, with his palm, again and again, until I realise he is crying. Covering his eyes, he rocks back and forth and lets out a loud sob. Frozen in my corner, afraid to breathe, I curse myself. If he caught me here again right now, he'd kill me on the spot. And I wouldn't blame him.

"Mum..." he breathes, and I think I've misheard, but then again: " _Mum..."_

His face a grimace of suffering, he leans into the Mirror and presses his cheek to the surface. Cosing his eyes, he is sobbing and sobbing and wiping his tears endlessly, and I don't know what to do...

I remember Narcissa Malfoy's case. Guilt, pity and shame flood me. I blame myself, because it is my fault that she died in custody in June. At the beginning of May, they sent her straight to Azkaban to await her trials along with her husband and all the Death Eaters they managed to capture after Voldemort's demise. Being underage, Malfoy remained under house arrest. I think if I didn't hesitate, if I wasn't reluctant, if I wasn't otherwise occupied those absolutely mad several weeks... If I didn't wait until the date of her trials to deliver my testimony on her behalf - I think she would have been alive, I think they wouldn't have dared to do what they had done. Her trials, appointed for the end of June, never took place. She was found dead in her cell in Azkaban two weeks prior, like her husband and other criminals. Official investigation ‘revealed’ that the guilt lay upon the group of Dementors gone astray and out of control, and the case had been immediately closed. _Fuck._ If only I wasn't so naive or reluctant to make a difference... I'd spoken at Malfoy's trials in his favour, his Mother's role and aid including. It helped him, yes; it couldn't help her.

I must admit, despite all this, despite that Malfoy had just lost his parents, I hardly ever thought how it might affect him or change his life, or turn his world upside down. He came to Hogwarts in September. Why? I have no idea. He has hardly spoken to anyone ever since. He'd been wandering around like a ghost, but I always thought he was up to something. However obvious it might be, it had never occurred to me that he was grieving. Perhaps because I myself never knew my parents, having lost them so long ago that I never actually remembered that loss, and have no idea how does it feel to really lose them and what does it mean to a person who'd grown up having a family. I never imagined Malfoy was wandering the castle, crying his eyes out over his Mother’s death, instead of plotting evil deeds. But what else was he supposed to do? I'm such an idiot.

Malfoy is sitting quietly with his cheek pressed to the Mirror. Time drags on and on, and my whole body is tired from standing motionless for so long. My teeth begin chattering when he finally gets up on his feet. Throwing the cover over the Mirror, he leaves the room. I listen to his retreating footsteps until they die in the distance and then finally exhale. Not taking the cloak off, I collapse to sit in the corner, casting a warming spell over myself, and lean my head back against the wall.

What kind of mirror is this? It shows Malfoy his mother. Does it show the past? Does it show the dead or ghosts? Why does it show me nothing? I don't understand.

When I creep into the dormitory about an hour later, everyone is asleep. The curtains around Malfoy's bed are pulled shut.

**

**III**

_As the smile fell from your face, I fell with it_

_Our faces blue_

_There's a heart stain on the carpet_

_I left it, I left it with you_

_Yeah, the truth is that I'm sorry_

_Though I told you not to worry_

_I'm just some dumb kid_

_Trying to kid myself_

_That I got my shit together_

_So go, get running, won't you hurry_

_While it's light out, while It's early_

_Before I start to miss, any part of this_

_And change my mind, whatever_

_[Troye Sivan, ‘Lost Boy’]_

It's been a really miserable Sunday. Hermione is nowhere to be seen, and Ron is all grumpy and irritable. The weather is awful, snowstorm raging outside, and I don't know what to do with myself. I am sitting in the armchair in the Common Room, staring into the fire for who knows how long. It is half past eight in the evening, and Ron mumbled something like _"Talk to her..."_ and has supposedly gone to the library, for where else Hermione can hide? I almost wish for Monday to begin sooner, to go on with the classes and homework. Have I actually just thought that?

"Have you seen Draco?" Zabini's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, I look up.

"No... no, I haven't." I shake my head.

"Where the hell has he disappeared? I haven't seen him since breakfast." Zabini frowns.

He's standing with his hands in his pockets. His simple outfit: a beige cashmere jumper and brown trousers, bring out his smooth dark skin, somehow softening his intense eyes and chiselled features. I always feel scruffy and out of place in his presence.

"No idea," I say, turning back to the fire.

I want him to leave, being alone with him unsettles me. Heat starts creeping up my neck for no reason at all but my own thoughts that we actually are alone in the room.

"Okay. I'll go check the library," he says, but doesn't move.

I stare into the fire, waiting for him to leave. He doesn't. Aware of his presence behind me, I turn my head to look at him. He is observing me with a curious expression on his face, as though weighing something. Our eyes meet, and I know my face is burning.

I clear my throat, twice. "Do go, check," I say, taking my glasses off and beginning to wipe them with the hem of my jumper for something to do - anything but look him in the eyes.

"Right," he says, finally, _finally_ turning and heading to the door.

When the door clicks shut behind him, I exhale, putting my glasses on. What the fuck was that? I shake my head and stand up. It's dinner time.

Entering the Great Hall, I notice Ron and Hermione straight away. They are sitting at the very edge of the Gryffindor table, looking in the opposite directions. Approaching I see they are holding hands under the table.

_Oh, well._

Sitting across from them in order to have a good view of the Slytherin table without turning around, I take a jar of pumpkin juice, pouring myself some. "Hi, guys."

"Hi," they both say simultaneously, not looking at each other.

"I'm starving!" I say cheerfully, helping myself to some pancakes, though I'm nowhere near; but I _have to_ behave normally around my friends who are reconciling before my very eyes, right?

"Ron, I need my right hand," Hermione says quietly, looking down at her plate; there's no bite to her voice.

Releasing her hand, Ron reaches for pumpkin juice, filling her glass.

"Thanks," she says.

 _Oh, Merling,_  I'm happy they make it up, I really am; but if this isn't even more awkward than them having a row, I don't know what is...

Glancing at the Slytherin table, I see Zabini sitting down alone. Malfoy is nowhere to be seen. Okay.

Stuffing the whole pancake in my mouth, I chew quickly and then down my juice in one go, standing up.

"Okay, see you, guys."

I am already halfway to the door when "Harry?!" Ron shouts in my wake.

I wave my hand at him, walking out through the door. I run all the way up to the Common Room, leaping the staircase to the dormitory three steps at a time. The room is empty - Ron and Zabini are at dinner, and who the hell knows where Malfoy is. Actually, I'm about to find out in a minute. I reach into my trunk, retrieving the Map from the very bottom.

 _"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,"_ I whisper, watching as patterns appear on the parchment. I check the Mirror-room, as I call it, Malfoy is not there. I check the library, the corridors, the classrooms, the Astronomy Tower, the Owlery, the Gallery and even all the courtyards - I cannot find him. He isn't in the Great Hall either - the dot _‘Blaise Zabini'_ is sitting alone, apart from other Slytherins at the table. Last time I saw Malfoy today was at breakfast. Zabini managed to drag him down and make him eat something. Unless he is again in the Room of Requirement... but the room isn't even there anymore, they say, after the Fiendfyre.

I pointlessly follow the lines at the edges  of the parchment with my fingers, when suddenly _'Draco Malfoy'_ catches my eye. He is at the edge of the Lake. What the hell is he doing there - at night in this weather? I am already throwing the Cloak on, running to the door. The weather is quiet, the storm had died down at some point during the last hour, it seems. The air is stinging cold, and I cast one warming spell after another over myself on my way to the Lake.

I notice Malfoy from a distance: a tall black figure against the whiteness of the moonlit snowy landscape. In his winter cloak, he is standing by the water edge not far from that place where the bank slopes up and up, ending up in a cliff. I slow down and stop. The Lake is frozen white by the edges but remains dark, rippling and alive in the middle.

Malfoy is doing nothing, just standing there, staring into space. And I am standing here, watching him. Minutes drag... When I am about to think he's here to breath the night air and that's it, his hands go up to unclasp the cloak. Heavy fabric falls down into the heap around his feet. Stepping over it, he heads along the water edge, and I follow him in the distance. He stops, I stop. He raises his head, looking up at the cliff and... starts climbing up the slope.

 _Oh, Merlin,_ what is this all about? I actually begin to think he's taking the piss.

He climbes higher until the slope narrows up, changing into a cliff, and I hear the sound of his shoes stepping on stone. He reaches the edge and stops, and looking up at him from the ground I hold my breath. His dark silhouette is outlined against the full moon, lonely and still as a statue. I am mesmerised. My heart is thudding heavily, and I know I shouldn't just stand here like an idiot and watch, I should _do_ something... Because I think I finally know _what_ this is all about, but I am unable to move, unable to do anything but stare, as though in a slow motion, he is rising his hands, clenched into fists, as his whole body is gathering momentum, as his feet are kicking off the stone as though he is about to soar into the night sky... His long body is lean and graceful... Spreading his arms wide, he is _flying..._

" _Malfoy!_ " I scream at the top of my lungs, cold air burning my throat, " _NO!_ "

But I already know it is too late, and black waters close over his head.

I run.

Tripping in the snow, stepping at the hem of the Cloak. Swearing, I tug it off, and run, run, run, clutching it in my hand, to the edge of the Lake, where the lonely cliff is observing the black water. _Fuck! No..._ Throwing the Cloak on the ground, I step onto the ice. The water is black, it is impossible to see anything. I draw my wand.

 _"Expecto Patronum!"_ I cry, sending the Stag down into the water to light the way ahead of me. Casting the Bubble Head Charm over myself, I dive. The water is so hellishly freezing that it stings even through my warming spells. My clothes and boots feel suddenly heavy, straining my movements, dragging me down. I grip my wand and follow the Patronus down, looking around, my heart racing. This terrified I haven't been for quite a while. _Fucking hell,_ you idiot bastard! Just you wait... Once I drag you out of here, I'll fucking kill you myself!

Looking down, I see the dark shape in the distance, falling, sinking rapidly further. I send another Patronus, and it reaches the figure quickly, illuminating it with the bright silvery light. I dive down, helping with my feet and arms, pressing forward with all my might. I see his pale lifeless face, white hair flowing around his head. There is no time, every passing second may be his last. Grabbing him around the waist, I raise my wand, shouting ‘ _Ascendio!’_ as violently as I can.

In a wide arc, we catapult out of the water in and hit the ice at the edge of the bank. With a growl, I rise on my knees and drag Malfoy further away from the Lake. I am shaking all over, and my fingers almost cease to obey me. I cast warming and drying spells on myself and Malfoy. Once my hands stop shaking, I cast again: one large warming sphere around us both, to protect us against the frosty air. In the light of Lumos Maxima I kneel beside him. His lips are blue, and he is not breathing. I turn him on his side and see as water runs out of his mouth.

Of course.

"Aqua Reversare!" I cast, pointing my wand at his chest, and water begins flowing out of his mouth and nose, a lots and lots of it, until it stops and Malfoy, making a noisy gulping sound, begins coughing.

 _Oh, thank Merlin,_ I exhale. My hands are shaking; I haven't been sure this would work at all.

He is coughing and gulping the air, trying to inhale, until he succeeds, breathing noisily through his mouth.

I wait, until his breath is even, and only then move on my knees in front of him.

"Malfoy?"

Pressing his hand to his chest, he jumps and sitts up straight on the ground, staring at me in disbelief.

"Potter? What?.." he trails off, his face falling. Obviously, he remembers.

"You've nearly drowned; I’ve dragged you out of there," I say, "what the actual fuck? Are you insane, Malfoy?!"

His shoulders sloping, he looks down at his hands. "Trust you to ruin everything, Potter. Why are you even here?"

"I... I’ve just spotted you on the cliff," I lie, "and then you jumped into the water - what should've I done?

"Nothing?" he says, "hell, it's freezing," he blows at his fingertips.

"And let you drown?" I cast another warming spell over him.

"Yes, it's what I was aiming for," he says tiredly, "why are you always _there_ , at my very worst, Potter? I can't even kill myself properly without you saving the day."

"Malfoy, look..." I don't know what to say to him. _'I'm sorry about your mother?'_  Hardly.

"Potter..." he sighs, running his palm over his face, and begins to stand up. Once on his feet, he sways in place, clutching himself around the middle. “It’s fucking freezing... where is my cloak?” He peers at the edge of the Lake.

"Where are you going?" I ask. Honestly, as soon as I leave you alone, I want to say, you are going to try to kill yourself again.

"To my dormitory; to _our_ dormitory, if you want." He rolls his eyes, heading to the water; I tense. He picks up his cloak, wrapping it around himself.

"I'm going there, too," I say, "don’t move, stay where you are," I dash to the foot of the cliff, turning my head back every couple of seconds to check on Malfoy. I find my Cloak, stuffing it into my pocket, and run back.

"This ridiculous," Malfoy mumbles but otherwise doesn't protest.

We head to the castle in silence.

**

As we climb the stairs to our dormitory, it's already late and everything is quiet.

"Look, Potter," he says, not looking at me, "don't tell anyone, okay?"

"I won't," I reply, "if you won't attempt anything like that again."

"I... I don't know," he mumbles.

"Malfoy, don't you fucking dare," I hiss.

We stop in front of our door.

"I need a shower," he says and turns abruptly, heading to the bathroom. I follow.

"Potter, what?.." He whirls around. "Oh, really? You are stalking me to the shower?"

"I'll keep an eye on you, so you won't try to do anything stupid again."

"Oh no, no fucking way."

He wrenches the bathroom door open and puts his arm across the frame, blocking me from entering.

"Yes. Otherwise I’m reporting this to McGonagall," I snap.

Rolling his eyes, he removes his arm. I follow him into the bathroom.

Malfoy shrugs and without any warning grips the hem of his black high-neck sweater, pulling it over his head.

 _Oh my God._  I stare at his pale chest, sharp collar bones and broad shoulders. He is so thin...

He points his wand at his sweater, transforming it into the towel. I stare.

"What?" He looks up. "Like what you see?"

And the memory of Zabini, naked in this very bathroom comes unbidden.

"Shut up, Malfoy." I turn my back to him, leaning against the wall. "Fucking wash yourself already, I'm tired, I want to get into bed." I yawn.

I hear the click-click of his belt, the sound of fabric sliding down his legs. I feel out of my depth, honestly, for no reason at all. Water begins running.

I am anxious of those common showers now. Since the beginning of the term. Though the bathroom is never crowded - there are only five of us in the Eighth Year - I, Ron, Zabini, Malfoy and Hermione (the lucky one, who has a single bedroom equipped with facilities all to herself). I always try to shower discreetly, when no one is here. I feel uncomfortable with anyone looking. No, not with Ron, though... but Zabini... _I can't_ ... I am afraid my traitorous body may give me away. Now Malfoy. I peer over my shoulder. Soapy water sluices down his long pale body. His shoulders are broad, his back narrowing down to the waist, his small round arse looks firm. He is washing shampoo out of his hair, and the movement of his raised arms makes the outline of ribs sharply stand out under his skin. He is so thin. I wince.

I feel a weird protective urge to come up behind and hug him, and make him warm and safe. To squeeze this unyielding body, feeling the ridges of his ribcage under my fingers. This is utterly different to what Zabini makes me feel. With Zabini I want... _Oh Merlin,_  I want to run my palms up and down the smooth skin of his thighs, to grab the handfuls of his arse, to press my face into his brown chest, inhaling his divine smell in lungful. I want to feel his touch in return. I have no doubt he knows how to do it... those things that I've never done before... that I've barely done and never with a man, those things that keep me awake at night and embarrass me in his presence.

"Potter! Are you ogling me?!"

 _Shit._ I turn hastily away. "I... sorry..."

"I’ve never thought..." The bastard's voice is smug.

"What?"

 _Oh shit_ , I know what he’s never thought. I’d never thought it myself until a couple of years ago.

The shower stops. "That you like cock."

Malfoy brushes past me to the sinks with a towel around his hips, _thank Merlin._

"I don't!" I protest, and it sounds stupid, as though I admit it by denying it so vigorously.

"Are you sure?"

He unwraps the towel from his hips in front of the mirror, and _fuck_ \- I jerk my face away, turning to stare at the wall.

“Yes!" I snap, willing the floor to open and swallow me right now.

"Then what's the matter with you?" His words are muffled by the towel over his head as he rubs his hair dry. "Why so jumpy, if you don't give a fuck?"

"Fuck off, Malfoy." I turn to the door. "I'm going to the dormitory, and if you are not in your bed in a five fucking minutes, I know how to find you, trust me." I shut the door behind me.

When in a few minutes Malfoy enters the room, I am in my bed.

Malfoy turns his back to me and throws the towel down, and I see his pale arse in the moonlight as he climbes into bed.

"Why do you sleep naked?" I ask.

"Does it bother you?" He whispers.

"No."

"Then why do you ask?"

"Er...fuck off."

"Potter..."

" _What?_ "

"Thank you for... you know."

"Okay," I say.

"Draco?" Zabini says loudly from his bed. "Where the hell have you been?"

"It's alright Blaise, just... walking."

Zabini mumbles something in his sleep.

We say no more, and I've almost dozed off when the door opens quietly, letting Ron in; he tiptoes to his bed.

_Oh, well..._

**

**IV**

_I say I wanna settle down_

_Build your hopes up like a tower_

_I'm giving you the runaround_

_I'm just a lost boy_

_Not ready to be found_

_[Troye Sivan, ‘Lost Boy’]_

Ron is positively glowing. I poke him in the ribs.

"What?" he grins.

"Nothing," I say, glancing at the Slytherin table. Malfoy is sitting there with Zabini, munching at his toast.

They'd done it at last. Ron and Hermione. I don't ask such things even of my best friends, but what else is that supposed to mean after Ron had returned in the middle of the night? We did it with Ginny twice. The first time was rather... anticlimactic, for the lack of a better word. It was so quick and not at all like I expected or saw in those intense dreams. I mean, I knew what to do, of course, in theory who doesn't? I did what should be done, and it went a bit strained, for I saw it was causing her pain, but she was determined. And then - just when it was supposed to last, when _I_ was supposed to last - I didn't, and it was over. I was embarrassed and said sorry... and she said it was okay for the first time, 'cause it was actually a bit painful, she said. Our second time was fine, I suppose, but felt not _exactly_ like what I wanted. What I actually wanted - I didn't know, and didn't have the chance to find out. We broke up in a week. Ironically enough, it started over Malfoy, over his trials. She didn't understand why I was going to help him. We had a terrible row, and she shouted things about Fred at me, about Remus and Tonks, about Teddy... Things that made me cringe and cover my ears with my hands, and shout "Enough! Enough! Go away!"

She left. We’d never made it up after that. I was so tired, I didn't have any energy left to fuel the relationship.

Saying something to Malfoy, Zabini looks up and meets my eyes. He stops talking and winks, waving his hand at me. Frowning, Malfoy follows his gaze. We stare at each other, and then I shrug and look away. I don't know what Zabini is playing at...

"Hi." Hermione sits down beside Ron. I look up at her.

They'd definitely done it last night. _Okay..._

**

It is fifteen minutes into the Transfigurations class with the Seventh Year, and I keep glancing at the door, feeling uneasy. Malfoy is late.

"... which no doubt is crucial for your NEWT exam," McGonagall says, "any questions?"

I raise my hand.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Excuse me, Professor, may I go to the bathroom?"

"Please, do." She waves her hand at me dismissively, and I am already on my way to the door. In the corridor, I retrieve the Map from under my belt beneath the vest and hastily unfold it.

"Come on, where are you, fucker..." My heart racing, I scan the parchment.

There he is, in the Mirror-room. Of course, I should have guessed. The dot _'Draco Malfoy'_ is moving, and I exhale. At least the idiot hasn't killed himself just yet. I run all the way through the corridors, leaping three steps at a time over the staircases, not caring about the Cloak, I don't need it. Bursting through the door, I stop to catch my breath; I've been running so violently that my stomach aches. Malfoy starts, turning around. He is sitting in front of the Mirror with his legs crossed.

"Potter," he says flatly, turning back to the Mirror, "leave me the fuck alone."

"How do I know you won't try to kill yourself again?"

"You don't," he says quietly.

 _Oh, shit._ How am I supposed to leave him alone?

"Come on, you are late for classes." I approach to stand right behind him. As always, the reflection shows me the empty room.

"I don't give a fuck about classes."

"You should get away from that mirror," I say, "come on, get up." I grab his arm, trying to pull him on his feet.

As if burnt, he jerks away from my touch. "I'm not going anywhere, Potter. Fuck off." His eyes are wide.

"Yes you are. Otherwise I'm reporting you to McGonagall."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Try me," I say.

"Fine," he spits, rising on his feet; he is only a little bit taller than I, "I fucking hate you, Potter." He brushes past me, and I follow him out of the room.

The rest of the day I keep an eye on Malfoy, but he does nothing suspicious. He drags himself around to all the classes and meals according to the schedule.

After dinner I go to the Owlery and choos one of the Hogwarts Post owls. I tie the note to its leg and open the window, watching its flight around the castle wall.

 _'To Prof. M. McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'_ \- it says.

 _'It is my duty to report that a magical mirror of an unknown nature and properties has been revently discovered at Hogwarts. The aforementioned mirror has a destructive influence on students who happen to find themselves in its vicinity, causing them suffering and suicidal intentions. This mirror should be removed immediately in order to protect students' mental health and wellbeing, which I am urgently bringing to your attention. P_ _recise location of the Mirror is: the fifth floor of the western wing, the first corridor to the left, the last room to the right._

_Sincerely, Anonymous'_

**

I know it's cruel what I'd done, but there is no other way. Next day, leaving the first class "for the bathroom", I dash to the Mirror-room only to find it empty. The Mirror has been removed. Okay. Retrieving the Map, I watch as the dot _'Draco Malfoy'_ is hurrying along the corridors. I sit in the corner and wait. When the door opens, he stops abruptly in the doorway, surveying the room. Not seeing me, he dashes forward and stops in his tracks, face bewildered.

"Malfoy."

He starts, turning to me. I stand up.

"Where is it?!"

"I don't know." I take a step towards him.

"You are lying!" In a few strides he is before me, grabbing the front of my jumper.

"I'm not. I don't know where they took it." I place my hand on his wrist.

Malfoy recoils, releasing me. "It's your doing, you bastard!" He shouts, his face contorting in agony. "This mirror is the only way... the only way..." covering his eyes, he turns away, but I notice his mouth is a grimace of pain. "Go away, Potter..."

"Malfoy..."

 _"Get out!_ " He bellows in a terrible voice that turns into a sob.

I step around him to look him in the face. "Malfoy, look, I _had to_ do this, I had to tell them to take it away. You were wasting yourself in front of it, whatever was it showing to you..."

"It was my _Mother!_ " He shouts, grabbing me by the shoulders, his face livid. "It was my Mother! You don't understand!" He is shaking me, my head snapping back and forth, and I don't even have the right to resist. "You don't have a mother!" His face crumples, fat tears running down his blotchy cheeks. "It was the only way I could see her... _I hate you..." H_ e trails off in a whisper, releasing my shoulders.

Following some unknown instinct, I launch forward and wrap my arms around him, pressing into the back of his head with my palm, forcing him to rest his forehead against my shoulder. His whole body is shaking, and I rock him back and forth, letting him weep.

"I've got you, Malfoy," I am repeating again and again, my eyes prickling, "I've got you."

I have no idea of what I'm doing, if this is okay, or if it should be done. I just feel an overwhelming pity flooding me, the urge to protect, and I must let it out. Tears are running down my face, I don't know whether I'm doing it for him or for myself, but I must let _this_ out.

We stand like this for a while, until his back ceases shaking save for an occasional stray sob, until my own tears stop. Softening my grip around him, I pull him towards the wall.

"Come."

He comes, and I lead him into the corner and pull him down until we sit propped against the wall. Putting my arm around his shoulders, I pull his head down to rest against mine.

"Fuck," he says, wiping his eyes, "s-sorry..."

"It's okay," I say, feeling the pressure of his temple against mine. I am exhausted and somehow purified. It's been a while since I cried like this. Maybe that's what I needed?

Oue breath evening, we sit in silence, only disturbed by an occasional sob from either of us.

"It was my Mother," he says, "it was her mirror showed me all the time. She was alive and smiling at me... She was in her rose garden - in the Manor... You see, she was so happy..." he trails off, and I tighten my grip around his shoulder, "I came here every day, since I discovered the Mirror. The Mirror of Erised."

"What?"

"That's what was written along the frame at first, but then it disappeared."

"But... it showed me nothing. The Mirror of Erised always showed me my parents."

He leans back to look at me. This close I see his eyelashes are short, thick and golden, and his pupils are huge, swallowing almost the whole irises, making his eyes black. "Fuck, Potter... is there anything you haven't seen?"

I laugh. "I mean, the last time I saw it, and I was eleven then."

Shaking his head, he rests it back against my temple. "Go on."

He is warm against me, and the feeling of his skin at the side of my face is so thrilling, so... I haven't felt this good for quite a while, haven't had a fellow human being to press myself to, I'd gladly sit like this for an eternity.

" _It shows us the deepest, the most desperate desires of our hearts_ \- that is what Dumbledore told me. As a child I saw my parents. And now... What is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know... maybe you desire nothing?" Malfoy says. "Maybe you are content with how things are, so there is nothing left to wish for?"

"Hardly." I laugh. "You have no idea how miserable I am most of the time... And anyway, Dumbledore said that the happiest person in this world would see just themselves in that mirror, just the way they are - which is not my case, apparently."

"Miserable? _You?_ " He turns to me again in disbelief.

"You have _no idea._  The only thing I want most of the time - that everyone would just leave me alone so I'd cease to exist," I say. I want him to put his head back on my shoulder, but he doesn't, staring at me.

"What?" I ask.

"But this is it... the Mirror," he says, "it showed you the desire of your heart - nothing."

 _Of course..._ This is so obvious, how haven't I realised it myself? Taking my glasses off, I put my head on his shoulder. I feel a bit embarrassed and really good at the same time. He stills for a second, and then leans his head into mine.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," I say, "but I had to do something, otherwise you'd waste yourself away in front of that mirror. So I've tipped McGonagall off."

He makes a frustrated sound, starting to raise his head, but I put my palm on top of it, holding him in place.

"No, listen... just hear me out. What the mirror shows you - is an illusion. It's not real. It's your own memories combined with your most desperate wishes... Nothing can bring back the dead, believe me..." I whisper, "once I had an actual Resurrection Stone in my possession... It didn't help me either."

I feel my face is wet again and I don't fight it, letting tears run freely. He gives out a sob, and another, and then his hand reaches up to his face. I sit up and turn to him. His eyes are closed, tears streaming down from under the thick eyelashes.

"Come here," I whisper, wrapping my arms around him again, stroking my hand through his hair. He obeys, leaning into me, and I feel his arms close around my waist. We sit like this for an eternity.

**

It is lunchtime. We walk side by side through the corridors, our shoulders touching. I glance at Malfoy and catch him doing the same. We hastily turn away from each other.

"Look..." I begin.

Awkwardness and embarrassment that came after everything that had happened in that room tie my tongue, but I feel like something has to be said and I am the one to do it, otherwise he's going to shut down again, otherwise he's in danger.

"I swear, I'll leave you alone, but... can you promise you won't try to drown yourself again or some such?"

He stops abruptly, and I stop, too.

"No, I don't think so..." he says, looking at me wearily.

"No what?"

"I don't think I'll try to kill myself anytime soon."

I stare at him. "Really?"

"Really." He nods. "You see... I mean... thank you Potter, I actually feel better right now."

"If you need to talk... sometime... about things and stuff..." I gesture wide with my hand. "You may... I mean... if you want," I trail off, looking down at my feet. I struggle to meet his eyes for some reason.

"Look... I don't want to be a bother..." he says, and I look up. He fiddles with the strap of his satchel, looking down at his hands.

"It's not... you're not..."

"I am, Potter... I am. I'm fucked up..." he mumbles.

"Yeah... me too," I say, and he meets my eyes.

His hair is ruffled, falling over his eyebrow, giving hima  soft and tired look, and his nose is still red and blotchy. He looks so unlike everything I've been used to associate with _Malfoy_... He looks vulnerable and anxious and human. Something had happened between us in that room, something that had created this fragile connection, and I don't want it to disappear. I think I need something like this, too.

I clear my throat. "So... yeah, if you need someone to talk to... or just to hang around - feel free..." I gesture back and forth between us. "Just don't do anything stupid, Malfoy, for fuck's sake."

"Okay," he nods and begins walking. I follow, feeling easier than before.

In silence we reach the open door of the Great Hall and stop. We nod at one another, parting our ways, each heading to their own table.

**

"Where have you been, mate?" Ron asks as soon as I approach. "We’ve picked your things." He gestures at my satchel on the chair next to him.

"Thanks," I say, sitting down.

"What's going on, Harry?" Hermione gives me a _look._ "You disappeared from the first class, leaving your things behind."

"Er... nothing... I mean, I didn't feel like sitting in the classes, that's all," I say, helping myself to some steak and roasted carrots.

I don't actually want to explain myself, it would mean dragging Malfoy into all this, and I feel it would be not an okay thing to do. I glance at the Slytherin table. Malfoy is sitting with his back to me across from Zabini, who is telling him something, gesticulating with his hands.

The thought occurs to me.

After lunch I send him an owl.

_'Fancy something curious? Meet me in the library at 5 p.m. today. The aisle by the window, the very last desk to the right._

_H.P.'_ \- the note says.

**

His head snaps up, gaze landing on me immediately. He has received the note on his way to the double Potions and was reading it on his way down the stairs. My heart thudding, I lean against the wall by the classroom door. The stupid bird managed to find him only before the Potions class. I've observed the exchange between him and the owl at the top of the staircase. For a long moment he holds my gaze and then brushes past me into the classroom. I have no idea whether it means he'll come or not.

**

He comes.

At five minutes past five he appears at the library, approaching quickly from the far end of the aisle. Feeling a bit nervous for some reason, I sit back in my chair and observe him. He is striding determinedly, the echo of his footsteps confident and firm against the stone.

"Hi, Potter." He sits down at my desk.

"Hi." I grin at him, trying to feel and behave casual.

"So?" He retrieves my note out of his pocket, placing it in front of me on the table. "What is this about?"

I take a deep breath. "Can I trust you not to tell anyone?"

He looks at me warily and frowns, obviously taken aback, but then nods. "Yes. You can."

Hoping that I'm not wrong, that I'm not mistaken about all this, about him, I retrieve the parchment from my pocket, unfolding it on the desk before him, until it covers the whole surface. It is empty, save for the deep lines etched into it by the years of folding and refolding.

 _"I solemnly swear, that I am up to no good,"_ I say quietly, touching the tip of my wand to its centre. Feeling him turning his head to look at me, I gesture down with my head.

"What?" He asks.

"Just wait," I whisper, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

His jaw drops as he watches in fascination as the intricate pattern of lines and curves and moving dots and tiny letters is unravelling before his eyes. And I watch his face. His eyebrows shoot upwards, eyes widening in disbelief, a faint smile begins tugging at the corners of his mouth as he touches his fingers to his lower lip.

"But this..." he utters, "this is Hogwarts?"

He turns to me, and his face is so close that I can see my own tiny reflections in his transparent pale-grey irises. I nod.

"But how?.. I mean, Potter, where did you get this?"

He looks down at the parchment, tracing the lines with his fingertip, until he finds the library and two tiny dots _'Harry Potter’_ and ‘ _Draco Malfoy'_ so close to each other, that the letters of their names are intertwined.

"My father had made it," I say, "with his friends, when they were students here."

"But this is _brilliant!_ " His face lights up. "Can you _imagine?!.."_

"This Map has been in my possession for years." I laugh. "So believe me, I totally _can_."

"Oh... yeah... sure." He shakes his head. "Actually... hang on?.. This is how you've been stalking me? This is how you found me by the Lake?!"

I nod.

"You bastard!"

"I'm sorry, okay? Sometimes it proved effective. Often," I say, and his face falls.

 _Shit._ I didn't mean it like that... But it has come out as though I was referring to either him being a criminal back in the sixth year, or his recent attempted suicide.

He stands up. I grab his wrist.

"Malfoy... I didn't mean it like that." I tug at his hand, he tries to wrench it out of my grip. I grab his forearm with my other hand. "Just sit down, will you?"

Shaking his head, he looks down at me. "No, Potter, you are right. It often proved effective on me." His eyes are haunted, he doesn't struggle anymore.

I tug at his hand. "Just sit down, okay?"

With a sigh, he drops down at the desk. I release his arm. We sit like that for a while, watching moving dots on the parchment.

"It's fascinating," he says.

"Yeah," I agree.

Something has shifted between us.

**

Leaving the library, I had an idea. It was dinner time, but I didn't want to be around people. Neither did he, I assumed.

"Fancy a snack?" I asked him, when we were walking down the corridor.

"Yeah..."

"Follow me," I said.

When he entered the Kitchens, his eyes went wide in surprise.

"How do you know about this place?" He said over the noise of the mad house-elves' activity.

"Long story." I grinned.

He rolled his eyes. "How many of them do you have?"

"A bit," I said, "come on."

Now we share some cheese and bread and a hot pot of tea at the little table in the corner. Malfoy avoides my eyes, faking a fascination with the Kitchens perhaps too vigorously. I feel awkward, too. But not badly awkward. It's that tentative _something_ between us that I am afraid to ruin. And I know myself, I've never been good in figuring out things like that or in using words to their advantage.

"You know," he says, pouring himself some more tea, "if I knew about this place, I'd never even have to attend the Great Hall. Ever." He smirks. "Actually... now, I think I might..."

He's right... How have I never thought about it? People do get on my nerves, I'd gladly never see anyone.

"When I arrived here in September," he continues, staring into his cup, "you have no idea... I was scared shitless to enter the Great Hall. If I only knew about this place... "

I remember Malfoy on the 1st of September, my astonishment at seeing him.

"What's the ferret-prat doing here?" Ron said too loudly for my liking, and people were turning in our direction around the Entrance Hall.

"Dunno." I shrugged, following Malfoy with my eyes.

He'd heard what Ron said, no doubt, but he was the only one not looking at us. Staring ahead, with his chin lifted high, he passed us on his way to the Main Staircase. But the greatest surprise awaited us in our dormitory when we found Malfoy occupying one of the four beds. Sitting with his legs crossed, he was staring into the book on his lap.

"What are you doing here?" Ron said sharply.

Malfoy didn't reply, didn't give any indication that he noticed us at all. Sitting absolutely motionless, he was staring into the same page for about a half an hour, while we were arranging our things. Leaving for dinner, we left him like that. When some twenty minutes later he entered the Great Hall, whispers began running along the tables. Not looking at anyone, staring straight ahead, he went to sit at the very edge of the Slytherin table, apart from others. When Zabini clapped him on the shoulder, he barely nodded, but gestured at the empty chair next to him, inviting Zabini to sit down. And it went like that ever since, we barely heard his voice at all. He never addressed anyone directly. At first people shouted slurs and insults at him in the corridors; he never even turned his head. They left him alone.

"Er... why had you come here anyway?" I ask, I don't know if it's okay to ask him this.

For a while he fiddles with a napking, saying nothing.

"McGonagall sent me an owl... you know, in August." He exhales. "She said if I wanted to come here - I could... I didn't particularly want it... I didn't want anything. But I thought it would be better than sitting in the Manor alone." He turns his face away.

I see he blinks rapidly, as though fighting back tears.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

Why am I never able to keep my mouth shut? I curse myself. Why the fuck else could he possibly come here? The picture of Malfoy’s lonely figure in the bowels of the Manor right after his parents' death makes my skin crawl.

I put my hand on top of his on the table. He looks at me.

"Fuck..." He shakes his head. "But it's better, Potter. _It is_ better, believe me." He looks down at our hands. I squeeze.

"Sorry, Malfoy, I'm crap in saying the right thing."

"It's okay." He extricates his hand from under mine and stands up. "Come on."

**

"What if we bring our homework down here?" I ask upon entering the Common Room.

Everyone is still at dinner. The room is small, for there are only five of us in the Eighth Year. It's cosy and fire is crackling merrily in the grate; what one is supposed to do in their bedroom at this hour anyway?

"Okay, but... what about Weasley?" He asks warily.

"What about him?"

"Wouldn't he be mad at you?"

Ron actually might be, if I think about it.

"He doesn't own me, and anyway... he is otherwise occupied at the moment." I shrug.

I don't know what Ron may say to me, and I don't particularly care. They are free to have a good time with Hermione without explaining anything, aren't they? So am I... in my own way. And I actually feel peaceful around Malfoy. If anything, he is quiet and doesn't get on my nerves, unlike most people, which is surprising, but here I am. The prospect of just sitting with him quietly, poring over books, seems rather engaging to me at the moment.

"Otherwise how?" Malfoy heads to the staircase and I follow.

"They are dating, him and Hermione... You know..." I shrug. It's weird to say this thing out loud to Malfoy.

"Ah... okay," he says and doesn't elaborate further.

Having retrieved our books, we settle down on the sofa in front of the fireplace and begin to work.

**

About an hour passes in silence, save for the sound of pages turning and scrapping of our quills. Malfoy seems to be utterly absorbed in his Potions text, while I am not so much, though I'm trying to give the impression. I mostly stare at the page, aware of Malfoy's presence beside me, of his thigh that is very close to mine, of a faint smell of his cologne or aftershave or something reaching me each time he turns his head. I feel a bit warm and flustered and actually quite nice.

The door opens and we turn. Zabini enters and seeing us stops in his tracks.

"Wow... hi, guys!" He grins, heading to the sofa.

I feel suddenly nervous and unsafe and - frankly - pissed off with the bastard for breaking the mood.

"What's up?" He asks cheerfully, flopping down by my side on the sofa.

Too close, actually, for me to feel comfortable. We exchange uneasy glances with Malfoy.

"We are studying, Blaise." Malfoy rolls his eyes. " _Have been_ studying."

"Do you mind if I join you?" Zabini turns in his seat and presses into my side, putting his arm at the back of the sofa above my shoulders.

_Oh, Merlin._

"Do _you_ mind, Draco?"

" _Merlin... w_ hatever," Malfoy scoffs and furiously scribbles with his quill on the parchment.

"Actually, I've been meaning to ask you, Potter," Zabini says by my side, his breath brushing my ear.

My heart thudding, I stare into my text book.

"Some stuff about the DADA," he says, and his smell is so...

I don't know... It's his cologne, I think, but not only, it's... something... that makes want to lean into him, to press my face under his jaw and inhale... somethings that scares me and pulls me and...

"What about it?" I manage, blushing violently.

I don't know _what_ he is doing to me, or how he's doing that... But he is doing _something. M_ y stomach swoops, and I feel the pulse thrumming in my fingertips.

Zabini doesn't have a chance to reply, because the door bangs open. The three of us turn.

Ron is grinning widely, pulling Hermione into the room by the waist. Seeing me between Malfoy and Zabini, he stops in his tracks. Our gazes meet, and his face falls. We stare at each other. Hermione frowns. Without saying a word, Ron grabs her hand and leads her up the staircase.

I look at Malfoy. With a wince, he closes his textbook and begins gathering his things into his satchel.

"Trust Weasley to ruin our little idyll," Zabini sighs in mock-exasperation.

"Shut up, Blaise." Malfoy snaps and stands up.

Taking his satchel, he heads to the staircase, leaving me to Zabini's mercy.

I shuffle in my seat to the left side of the sofa, making some space between us. He follows.

I push back into his shoulder with my hand. "Stay where you are, okay?"

"Why, Potter... are you nervous?" He smirks but moves back.

"No. But I'd like to have some space," I say, leafing through the textbook.

I am so freaking nervous around you, _you have no idea._ Or maybe you do... It feels like you do... I don't know.

"Okay." He shrugs and takes my quill from the table, turning it in his fingers. "You know... I feel like I make you uncomfortable." He looks up. "Not just right now, but... generally." He trails the quill along the edge of his jaw. Mesmerised, I follow the movement with my eyes: silvery-white feather along the smooth brown skin, up and down, here it travels up to his ear, then sliding back down slowly, it caresses his full lower lip.

_Oh My God._

"But... just so you know, Potter... I really like you... and think highly of you," he says, and I stare at him.

Whatever I might have expected - it wasn't this.

"So you don't have to be anxious around me. Just...chill, okay?"

He hands me the quill. I take it, out fingers brushing, which makes me start. _Oh, come on_ ... How in hell am I supposed to _chill_ when he is like this?

He stands up. "See you around."

He heads to the staircase, climbing up the stairs to the dormitory. I bang my head against the back of the sofa.

**

When I approach the dormitory a half an hour later, the door is ajar, and I hear the low rumble of Malfoy's voice. I stop with my hand at the door handle.

"Leave him the fuck alone, Blaise," Malfoy says irritably.

"Why, Draco... are you jealous?"

Zabini's deep laughter reaches my ears, making the hairs on my forearms stand on end; my heart speeds up. _Fucking hell_ , what's the matter with me?

"Don't be ridiculous," Malfoy replies, "but you freak him out with your stupid tricks."

"I haven't done any tricks yet, Draco, you know full well," Zabini's voice is smug.

"Leave him the fuck alone," Malfoy repeats.

"And why should I? I actually like Potter, if you know what I mean... what harm would be in that? Unless you are jealous..."

"I'm not fucking _jealous_ " Malfoy hisses, "oh...just, fuck off!"

I hear footsteps approaching the door, so I throw it wide, entering as though I've been walking quickly all along and almost bump into Malfoy who is obviously pissed off. He is holding the bag of toiletries,his bathrobe and a towel thrown over his forearm. Brushing past me, he slams the door shut with a bang.

"Draco's in a foul mood," Zabini says from the armchair by his bed.

He is reclining in the black pyjamas, having thrown his legs over the side.

"I’ve noticed," I say, throwing the satchel near the bed.

Turning my back to him I pull the jumper over my head.

Ron is nowhere to be seen.

_Fucking hell..._

**

**V**

It begins in my sleep at some point. The restlessness, the  _need._  

The need of the unknown.

I toss in the sheets, winding them around my waist. I want...

 _Something_ is calling for me, and the call crawls beneath my skin, pulling, pulling, as though on the invisible leash... and I am obedient to follow.

 _He_ is there, there somewhere, I only have to reach out and touch. I am dying for his touch. I look up. He is shining bright golden, his blinding silhouette outlined against the stars. I reach with my hand, but it is not enough, I am not enough. He is whispering _words_ that I've never heard before, but the meaning of them I don't need to learn. They are pouring through my very core - the finest pollen, the sweetest melody - they are the promise of beauty and love and eternity. He is gathering golden strands in his hand, winding them around his wrist, around his strong forearm, and _pulls..._ And I feel the tug wrenches my very heart out, leaving me bleeding and needy and _his_... I fall downon my knees, raising my face to meet his kisses. The touch of his golden fingers is feather light and stinging along my jaw. His face is shining, blinding bright, I cannot make out his features. I cannot bear to look, I might die. I close my eyes to protect myself, to brace myself against what is coming. His first kiss comes as a blow, as nothing I've ever felt before, as everything I've ever wanted... I gasp against that unbearable brightness...he laughs, sweet and cruel, addictive... and the sound of my name on his lips is a reward, an offering and a demand...

_"...Harry..."_

I open my eyes.

The room is dark and quiet, save for Malfoy's steady breathing. My heart racing, I sit up. The blanket is wound around my legs, I wrench it out, breathing heavily.

_Fuck._

That was unlike any dream I've ever had before, even having Voldemort in my head. I feel itchy and hot and bothered and hard.

I am desperately, painfully hard.

Reaching down under the blanket, I press my palm into the bulge of my erection over the pyjama bottoms and gasp. Mumbling something, Zabini turns in his sleep. _Fuck_. Getting out of the bed, I head out of the room, down the corridor and to the bathroom. I switching the lights on and I catch my reflection in the mirror. I approach. My vision is blurry around the edges, but this close I see the wild look in my eyes, the front of my trousers tenting forward. I head to the cubicle and shut myself inside.

I lean forward with my palm against the wall. _Fucking hell._ Closing my eyes, I reach down, pulling the trousers around my thighs and grip my cock. It is already on the verge of exploding, and I hiss, beginning to stroke it. My jaw falls open. I try to imagine _something,_  and my memory supplies me with the image of Zabini in the shower, water glistening down his round buttocks. I come up, putting my hands on his hips, sliding my fingers around until they touch coarse hair around his cock. I grip his hard length, giving it a stroke and then another one, moving, moving my hand relentlessly, until he arches his back, turning his face to kiss me. And I am tasting his lips, and I am spreading his arse-cheeks, guiding myself into his body, and I am plunging into him with full force, tugging at his cock, stroking, stroking, stroking... I want him to come, I want to tear him apart with pleasure... I thrust and touch him, again and again, until he is gasps and jerks under my touch, until he cries out, impaling himself on me, until my cock shoots over the tiles, and I press my forehead into the wall, finally opening my eyes.

 _Oh, fuck_.

I am breathing heavily and my fingers are slick with come. I wipe them at my pyjama bottoms, tugging them up and push myself off the wall. _Fuck._ I wash my hands in the sink and head to the door. I feel sick and brilliant at the same time, and somehow dissatisfied a bit... as though something is missing, as though that golden presence from my dream is still lingering, beckoning to me from somewhere above, lurking at the edges, calling for me, promising, but never fulfilling, never enough.

I open the door and bumping right into Zabini.

"Alright, Potter?" He smirks, stepping aside.

"Sorry," I mumble, trying not to wince.

"No problem," he says and winks at me.

His eyes are so intense, and his smile is knowing and lascivious and... _Oh God_ ... At this very moment, I swear, I feel like he _knows._  Knows what exactly I've been doing here and how; knows that I fucked him senseless into the wall some two minutes ago, and he doesn't mind, not at all... Averting my eyes, I exit the bathroom, feeling his gaze on my back all along.

**

"Potter... Potter wake up," someone shakes me by the shoulder.

I open my eyes. Malfoy is looking down at me, fully dressed - even his tie is immaculate.

I rub at my eyes. "What time is it?"

"Eight. If you want to catch up with breakfast before classes, you should get up," he says impatiently, and the weirdness of this situation strikes me: Malfoy takes his time to wake me up, so I'd have something to eat and not be late for classes; I appreciate that.

"Give me a minute." I yawn, stretching my arms above my head.

Malfoy gives me an odd look. He is so damn neat and tidy, I feel myself a freaking bear in his presence. I am groggy and a bit tired. Last night, after my visit to the bathroom, I lay awake for some time. Zabini returned some fifteen minutes later. What had he been doing there that long, I wondered, feeling heat creeping up my neck, images of Zabini stroking himself in that same cubicle, on that very spot I'd been doing it assaulting me. I felt my dick stirred again, which made things even worse: to lay there with a boner, a few feet away from Malfoy and Zabini, unable to do anything about it. Turning on my side, I pressed the heel of my hand to the base of my cock, and finally fell asleep.

"A minute," Malfoy says, sitting on his bed.

"Okay, okay," I growl and sit up.

Zabini is nowhere to be seen, and Ron, apparently, had spent the night elsewhere. I don't know how I feel about it. I don't want to think about it just yet.

"I've thought..." Malfoy says, not looking at me, "maybe we can have breakfast in the Kitchens today? I don't feel like going to the Great Hall."

"Me neither, good idea," I say, heading to the bathroom, "give me a sec."

**

Today is the weirdest day I've had for while. I spend it with Draco Malfoy and enjoy it.

We entered the Herbology class at one minute to nine, hastily sitting down at the last bench by the greenhouse door. Ron threw me a _look_ over his shoulder and turned away. Hermione said something into his ear. I should probably talk to them, I thought. When the class ended, I wanted to go to them, but they were already leaving, not looking in my direction. Alright. To hell with it.

"Come on," I said to Malfoy, who was gathering his things.

He stood up, and we headed to the next class.

We sat together in Potions, and it was good. Malfoy is actually smart and intuitive, when he wants to be, and this is what required to become adept in Potions. Zabini was throwing us curious glances all day long. We had all our meals in the Kitchens and after classes we went to the library. Malfoy asked to take the Map out.

"I mean... I don't really want to know what Filch is doing right now or... whatever," he said, as I spread the Map out on the desk, "it's just... So fascinating to watch and know you can see them all."

Propping his chin on his hands, he set to observe, occasionally grinning or pointing something out. And I mostly stared at him out of the corner of my eye. I don't think I've actually seen Malfoy smiling for ages. But what did I expect? He'd just lost his mother and tried to kill himself the other day.

**

We climbe he staircase to our dormitory after dinner, and I laugh at something Malfoy says.

"Harry?" Ron is standing by Hermione's door, his hands in his pockets. "Would you come in for a sec?" There is a warning in his voice.

"Sure."

I nod at Malfoy, and he nods back, disappearing in our dormitory.

When I enter, Hermione is there, sitting on the bed cross-legged.

“Harry," she begins, “what’s that about Malfoy?”

“What about him?” I immediately feel defensive and I don’t like it.

“What do you mean w _hat about him_?” Ron says. “Like... don’t you already know?”

“Merlin... I sat with him in classes, and so _what?_ ” I shrug.

“So what? You spend the entire day with Malfoy. He’s _Malfoy,_ Harry, for fuck’s sake!”

“He’s okay to be around... What do you want me to say, Ron?” I throw my hands up."Deny it? Or stop talking to him because _you_ disapprove?”

“Harry, look,” Hermione says, “I saw you showing him the Map in the library... I mean, it’s _your m_ ap but... it’s _Malfoy."_

“For fuck’s sake! Were you spying on me?”

“No, I wasn’t... but I saw you there.”

“Are you fucking out of your mind, Harry?!” Ron spits. “Showing the Map to the ferret-prat!”

“It was for fun, Ron! What do you expect him to do with it anyway?”

“I expect him to be capable of the worst shit imaginable, do you not?”

“He’s changed, Ron... it’s the war and... he’d just lost his mother.”

“What does it have to do with you, Harry?” Hermione asks quietly.

“He’s in a bad state, he needs help, someone to talk to." I look at her.

“Is this what he told you?” Ron asks.

“No, it’s my own impression, he told me nothing.” I don’t want to reveal his suicide attempt to them.

“Help my arse! It’s Malfoy, Harry! _Malfoy!_ ”

“He’s a human being! He’d lost his parents, Ron, you don’t understand...”

“Yeah, sure I don’t.” Ron laughs bitterly. ”I fucking don’t understand what it means to lose my family to the war.”

“It's not the same. And you are not the only one bearing losses.”

“Harry.” Hermione warns.

“Says who?!” Ron raises his voice. “Don’t you fucking dare... You – you, who has _no fucking idea_ how it feels when you lose your brother to the war!  Go tell this to George, or to my mum or dad!”

“Ron, don't.” Hermione shakes her head.

_Oh shit._

Here we go again, with that _thing_ between us. The thing that hadn’t disappeared, the thing that will never go away. I feel myself in that tent in winter a year ago, staring daggers at Ron with my wand drawn.

Only this time Hermione won’t take my side.

I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Ron... I am sorry, I am so fucking sorry that you have to live with it. I blame myself for it... But it’s not what this is all about.”

“Then what is this about?” He stuffs his fists in his pockets.

“This is about me not living up to your expectations.”

“What?”

“Look... you two, guys – you have each other now, which is great, I am happy for you... But I want something for myself, too. I want to do what I want, not explaining myself. And you, Ron, deny it to me.”

“Harry, I’m sorry,” Hermione winces, “we’ve been so... distracted recently... We neglected you.”

“I’ve been feeling lonely for quite a while, yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about, Hermione. I am my own person, I am not the part of the _‘Trio’_ , you don’t have to babysit me, just freaking give me space to breath and to cope on my own by means that _I_ choose for myself.”

“Don’t you think that in Malfoy’s case you kind of have to explain yourself to us?” Ron asks.

“No, I don’t." I set my jaw.

I probably do, and probably Ron is right. But I'm not going to admit it. Ron is cruel, and though he has every right to be, I won't abandon Malfoy.

"I don’t have to justify my every fucking step to people that demand it of me.”

“Then we owe each other nothing, mate." Ron turns his back to me.

“Fine,” I say, heading out of the room.

**

I enter the dormitory and slam the door with a bang. Malfoy is sitting cross-legged on his bed with a book. With force I dump my satchel on the floor and wrench at my tie. The fabric is freaking unyielding and it pisses me off.

" _Fuck!_ "

I tug at the tie, loosening it around my neck and finally manage to get rid of it. I hurl the tie at the armchair, wrench my vest off and begin unbuttoning my shirt. Taking it off, I throw it at the back of the armchair and turn around. His book closed, Malfoy is observing me.

Honestly, I'm so pissed off with Ron that I'd gladly punch him in the face. Maybe that's what we should have done. Shaking my head, I reach into my trunk and jerkily retrieve a towel and the bottles of shampoo and shower-gel.

" _Fuuuck!_ "

The shampoo-bottle is empty. I hurl it against the floor, so that it bounces, rolling under Malfoy's bed.

He rolls his eyes and slides off the bed.

" _Honestly_ , Potter, you are so dramatic."

Reaching into his bedside drawer, he retrieves a bottle and throws it in my direction; I grab it in the air.

"You can use mine, you just have to ask."

"Er... thanks," I mumble, feeling a right twat.

Taking the towel and the other bottle, I head out of the room.

I am soaping myself up when the door opens. I look over my shoulder – _fuck, no_ \- Zabini. He has got nothing on except for a towel around his hips. I turn away and pouring some shampoo into my palm.

Water begins running to my left, and I see Zabini's movements at the edge of my vision. He hangs the towel on the hook. I will myself _not_ to look. Hastily I lather my hair up and rinse shampoo out as quickly as I can. Better get out of here; the sooner the better. Zabini is humming some cheerful motive under his breath, the bastard.

The door opens again, letting Malfoy in. He heads to the sinks. I switch the water off and grab my towel from the hook, wrapping it around my hips. Okay, that's better. I go to the sink to take my glasses from the shelf and put them on. Malfoy is in his pyjamas. Brushing his teeth, he gives me an odd look. Fine. I take my toothbrush and toothpaste from the shelf. Standing side by side, we vigorously move our toothbrushes. In the mirror Zabini is washing the soap off his back. I look away, bending down to the tap to rinse my mouth. Malfoy is moving his brush relentlessly, looking like he's not going to finish any time soon. I take my things from the shelf and leave the bathroom.

I've barely managed to put my pyjama bottoms on, when Malfoy comes in. I climb into the bed and so does he, switching the lights off. We lie in silence.

"Weasley is pissed off," he says all of a sudden.

"Yes," I reply.

My ire has gone out of my system, and now I feel sick and bitter about Ron.

"Look, Potter..." Malfoy begins, but I cut him off.

"Let's not talk about it, okay?"

"Okay," he says.

We don't say anything for a while.

"You know..." Malfoy begins, but doesn't have a chance to finish, because the door opens, and he falls silent.

Zabini walks in, bringing with him something that breaks the mood between us. I hope Malfoy will continue, but he doesn't. And we say no more.

"Goodnight, guys," Zabini says, rustling among his sheets.

Neither of us replies.

I lay awake for a long time, my mind drifting lazily. As soon as my eyes fall closed - _He_ is there. I squint under my eyelids against his brightness.

 _"Come,"_ he says, offering his hand.

I jerk, my eyes snap open. The room is dark and quiet. My face is hot and my heart is racing. Turning on my side, I see Malfoy in the moonlight, lying with his back to me. Trying to fathom is he asleep or not, I peer at him for a long time. His breath is even, he doesn't stir.

My eyes are closing, I open them again and again; it doesn't help. _His_ shining silhouette is in front of me, slender hand reaching out.

 _"Come,"_ he says.

I see golden cords in his fingers. I know they are tied to my heart, he only has to pull. So he does, beckoning.

_"Come."_

Closing my eyes not to burn them out, I step right into his arms. His heat encompasses me, setting my very core on fire. It is bliss - why have I resisted for so long?

The trail of his fingertips along my throat makes my neck arch, makes my whole body arch into his touch. I feel his lips against my neck as he whispers something -  _words_ that sink into my skin, turning my whole being liquid as I yield under his touch. I find myself trapped under his shining body, and are we on the ground... or in the sky... I cannot tell. I am in heaven, and he is my _Sun_. Scorching hot and overwhelming, his kiss stings my lips, his brightness seeping under my closed eyelids.

_"...Don't fight..."_

I hear his thoughts as he pierces me, wounding me beyond repair until that sharp and painful sweetness is soaking through my being, until I writhe and arch beneath him, until pain becomes joy, and joy becomes pain - on and on in the endless circle - until my pleasure shoots through me, and I jerk awake with a cry.

My back arching, I gasp and fall back onto the pillow. My whole body shakes, and I feel wetness on my thighs and belly under the blanket. I swallow and exhale and breathe, my heart calming down. I turn my head on the pillow. The faint light in the window indicates dawn. Propped on his elbow, Malfoy is watching me from his bed.

"Fuck." My face burning, I sit up.  _Fuck._ Not looking at him, I climb out of bed and head to the door.

In the bathroom I splash my face with cold water and prop myself against the sink. I am shaken... This felt like no other dream before. Seems like Malfoy has witnessed the whole thing.

_Shit._

I can't go back  to the room now. I go down the stairs to sit on the sofa in the Common Room, staring into the dying fire.

When I enter the dormitory some time later, it is clearly morning, and Malfoy is already fixing his tie in front of the mirror. Zabini is still asleep with his back to us.

"What time is it," I utter just for something to say.

He turns to me. "Half past seven."

"Would you..." I begin, "would you wait for a sec? I'll be ready in no time."

I am wildly embarrassed, but I don't want to be alone right now. I feel _his_ presence lurking barely out of reach, as though I have to only let my mind drift a little bit, and _he_ will consume me again.

"Sure." Malfoy gives me the once-over. "I'll be down in the Common Room."

Heading to Zabini's bed, he shakes him by the shoulder. "Blaise, wake up. It's half past seven."

Turning on his stomach, Zabini grunts. "Yeah... thanks." He covers his head with the pillow.

Malfoy shakes his head and leaves the room.

When I descend down the stairs ten minutes later, he rises from the sofa, and we head to the Kitchens without a word.

**

We eat in silence, and I avoid his eyes. Thank Merlin, there's food to occupy myself.

"You alright, Potter?"

"Yeah." I nod. "No..." I shake my head. "No, I'm not."

"Weasley?"

"No... I mean." I take a breath. "It's about Ron, too... but not only."

Pouring himself coffee, Malfoy says nothing.

"Actually," I continue, "maybe..."

 _Oh fuck_ , this is fucking emberrassing. I can't actually talk about _this_ , can I? But at some point I will have to, I don’t think I’ll figure it out on my own, and Hermione is not an option. Malfoy is smart, he knows _things_ , and he’d grown up among all that stuff, so...

"Potter?"

"Actually, I've been meaning to ask... do you know... are there any means to get into someone's head in their sleep?"

"What? Why?" He raises his eyebrows.

"I just need to know."

"Er... as far as I remember, the Dark Lord himself often fucked with your head, Potter... so _of course_ there are means."

"No, it's not like that...it doesn't feel like that, but it's real anyway," I stammer.

His eyes widen. "You mean, it's about you?"

"Yeah... I'm having these weird dreams, and they are not like dreams, they are real. Even when I'm awake, I feel they chase me."

"Nightmares?"

"No... not nightmares. Actually... in the dream, I sort of... don't mind, and even... sort of want to watch it. But..."

Realisation crosses his features. "You mean... You'd had one this morning?"

 _Oh, fuck._ I shrug.

"You _have to_ say something, Potter, otherwise I wouldn't be able to help you."

"Yeah... like that one... One of those..." I feel blush spreading up my face.

"You looked like you'd been having a really good time." He smirks.

" _Malfoy..."_

"Okay." He clears his throat. "So, you think someone's got inside your head and is doing that to you?"

I nod.

"For fuck's sake, Potter, say something!"

"Okay... There's this man. He comes once I fall asleep... and he does  _things_ to me..."

"What things?"

" _Those_ things, you know..." This humiliated I haven't felt for a while. "Stuff like... sex."

"I’ve gathered that much." Malfoy laughs. "But we all have those wet dreams, who doesn't?"

"Don't fucking laugh! They are not just _wet dreams_ , believe me. They are fucking terrifying! It's like heis bonding me, like holding me on a leash, and I have no choice..."

Malfoy's eyes go wide.

"It seems to me I kind of want it when it's happening... but in fact... it's freakish, it's wrong and... oh, this is fucked up," I trail off, running my palm over my face.

" _Hang on,_ Potter... Is he all shining golden?"

My jaw drops. "How do you know?"

"Fucking bastard!" Malfoy slams his palm against the table. "It's Blaise. He's _Pulling_ you."

" _What?_ " However, somehow I'm not at all surprised.

"He fucks with your head using his Veela-tricks."

"Oh...but... I thought there are only female Veela..."

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "How do you think they breed?"

"I didn't think..."

"Of course you didn't," he says, "Blaise's mother is a half-Veela. So... He's not the 100% pure creature, and hasn't acquired their full power, but he's got enough Veela-stuff up his sleeve, believe me. To have anyone he wants... if he really wants to. And seems like he's determined about you," Malfoy finishes not looking at me, with an odd note to his voice.

"So that's what you meant..." I blurt, instantly regretting it.

"I meant what?"

 _Okay. "T_ he other day I overheard you telling Zabini to leave me alone."

" _Merlin,_ Potter... is there anything you've ever learned _not_ by sneaking around or eavesdropping?" Malfoy hisses.

"I'm sorry, okay? But you should have closed the door if you didn't want anyone to hear."

Sipping his coffee, he says nothing, and I take my cup, too, to occupy my hands.

"Are you gay, Potter?" He asks out of the blue, and I choke on the mouthful.

"I... what makes you think that?" I utter, grabbing the napkin to wipe my mouth.

" _Blaise_ makes me think."

"What?"

"Blaise managed to Pull you. If you were 100% straight, he wouldn't have succeeded."

"He hadn't _succeeded,_ ” I snap.

"Oh, really?"

"I'll fucking kill him." I'm suddenly so angry. I wish to find Zabini this instant and strangle him with my bare hands.

"Well... I can't say he doesn't deserve it," Malfoy replies and stands up, "come on."

**

When we approach, the DADA classroom, it's fifteen minutes to nine, and it is still locked. The Seventh Year students line the wall in groups. Zabini is hanging by the door alone, leaning against the wall.

"Hi, guys," he says, his liquid eyes glancing from Malfoy to me and back; the bastard.

I come close and take him by the elbow.

"Come on, we need to talk," I squeeze his arm, making him wince.

"Okay," he says, and we move past the crowd to the opposite wall, leaving Malfoy by the door.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" I hiss, dropping his elbow.

He raises his eyebrows in question and crosses his arms.

"Who the hell do you think you are, using your Veela-magic to fuck with my mind?"

Realisation crossing his features, he turns to look in Malfoy's direction, who looks back at us, fiddling with the strap of his bag.

Turning back to Zabini, I slam my palm into the wall near his head. He winces. “It’s the same as if you’d actually have forced yourself on me, don’t you think?”

"Look, Potter... I didn't mean any harm," he says, placing his hand on my forearm.

At that moment someone approaches, coming to a halt in front of us. I turn my head. Ron and Hermione are staring at us. Face livid, Ron tugs at Hermione's hand, pulling her in the direction of the classroom. I follow Malfoy with my eyes. The classroom has been opened. He glances in our direction and follows people inside.

Shrugging Zabini's hand off, I push myself off the wall.

"Stay the fuck away from me," I say and head to the classroom.

I find Malfoy straight away - he is sitting alone at the very back of the room, the seat beside him is empty. I drop my satchel at his desk, sitting down next to him. At that moment Zabini enters the room, heading to the front row of desks nearest to the teacher's place. Ron and Hermione are not far behind. Seeing Zabini, Hermione turns, looking around the room, until she spots me and Malfoy. She turns away.

The DADA-teacher enters and silence falls around the room.

"I told the bastard to stay away from me," I whisper to Malfoy, not turning my head.

"Okay," he says, retrieving his things from the bag, "I think your dreams will stop from now on."

"Malfoy..." I whisper, turning to him, “how... I mean... did he use it on you? Did he Pull you as well?"

Holding my gaze, Malfoy nods.

"Did you... like it?" I ask, my face growing hot.

"He's a _Veela_ , Potter. _Of course_ I liked it, I had no choice."

"How did you know?" I watch his face while he is staring at the parchment on the desk.

"That he's a Veela?" He gives me an odd look. "I've always known, we have grown up together, you just _know_ such things."

"How do you even talk to him after that?"

He laughs quietly. "Ah... it was a couple of years ago. He was just testing his skills on me, I think. I mean... I punched him in the face, of course... but ... you know, he's not that bad, once he's not determined to drag you into his bed... He really helped me through a terrible period of my life... just was _there_ for me. He may be a right twat at times, but he's a good friend."

I look at his profile: his sharp jaw and nose, the pale eyebrow, the eye - transparently grey - staring into space. He doodles with his quill on the parchment: zigzags and circles and tiny stars.

"Have you ever?.. You and him? You know..." I blurt, I really want to know.

"What?" He turns to me. "No... no." He shakes his head. "Despite him being a Veela, I don't think he's my type." He laughs quietly  "It's not how it works... No matter how many tricks he may use... unless you feel a _real thing_. And it's exactly like Amortentia... Veela's Pull is an illusion, it's fake if there's nothing behind, and it wears off pretty soon."

Afraid to breathe, I stare at him... The way he is saying this - simple and genuine, without any pretence - makes my insides flutter and stomach swoop, and it's nothing like Zabini's tricks.

"Why, Malfoy..." I nudge him with my shoulder. "Are you telling me you are actually into guys?" I grin.

"Are you telling me you didn't know, Potter?" He rises his eyebrows.

"How would I know?"

"Well, you were obsessed with me... one would think you knew." He smirks.

"I wasn't _obsessed_ with you," I protest, "I was..." I trail off, suddenly becoming aware of the silence in the room.

I look around. Everyone is staring at us.

"This is fascinating indeed, Mr. Potter," says the DADA Professor, and the giggles scatter around the classroom, "but I am sure we'd all appreciate if you broke that confession to  Mr. Malfoy privately after the class."

_Fuck._

People burst with laughter. Ron, Hermione and Zabini are the only ones staring at us with stony faces.

"Next time, do keep your mouth shut, will you?" Malfoy hisses, very red in the face.

**

**VI**

If I think about it, I am having the weirdest time of my life. For several weeks now the only person I talk to is Draco Malfoy.

Ron had not returned to our dormitory. The next day after our fight, I noticed his things were missing. He moved into Hermione's room. So it left the three of us.

Since the day I told Zabini to fuck off, those dreams had stopped and he bothered me no longer. We carefully avoid each other's gaze whenever we are in the same room. I had ceased to feel that maddening pull towards him that made my heart race and my palms go sweaty. Malfoy, however, is as friendly to him as before. To the extent Malfoy is able to be 'friendly', I mean. I have no idea how does he do it around Zabini. I think in my case it would be all or nothing. We would either fuck each other senseless or ignore completely. For some reason there is this awkward unspoken agreement between the three of us: only one person in the showers at a time; we are very careful not to intercept each other there.

I reconcile with attraction to guys. I no longer freak out. It actually makes so much sense, if I think of it: Oliver Wood, Cedric Diggory, Cormac McLaggen, Bill Weasley, Viktor Krum - I thought it was appreciation, or envy, or fascination, or annoyance, whatever. Now I see it for what it actually was. Which brings my thoughts to Malfoy.

Well...

It was never simple with him, okay? I don't know... He pissed me off like no one ever did. Thinking about my younger self, the main thing I remember is that constant awareness of Malfoy and anger. Anger at him for not noticing me, anger for drawing attention, for his presence, for his absence, for what he said, for what he didn't, when he laughed, when he smirked... the desire to punch him in the face, to close my fingers around his throat and squeeze, to throw him on the ground and straddle his kicking body. The desire to be physical, to dominate, to show him, _to_ _prove_ ... so that he'd admit and acknowledge and fucking _notice_ me and... _Merlin,_ it was so fucked up. Maybe the actual thing I wanted from him was something else, only I was too young to realise it?

What's going on between us now... it's hard to name. I mean, one would perhaps call it 'friendship', and maybe it's what it is for Malfoy... except for I can tell for myself: I don't feel this way towards _friends._ Towards Ron or Hermione or Gin (I cringe hard at that thought... we actually dated, _for fuck's sake!)_

I don't want to stare at a friend’s face, I am not embarrassed when a friend suddenly meets my eyes or comes up too close from behind, leaning down to point out something in the book, so that their breath grazes my ear, making the skin on my forearms flare up with goosebumps. My heart doesn't begin racing each time I catch a friend looking at me discreetly. I don't pay a second thought to Ron's bare chest. I don't feel all hot and bothered when Hermione leans into me on the sofa.

All these things about Malfoy are absolutely electrifying. I mean, you don't normally want to devour your friend's lips; you don't have persistent dreams about them that leave you longing and hot and trembling at night. Those dreams are nothing like Veela illusions. In those dreams he comes willingly, and I see his face, and neither of us forces the other... And in the morning I can't look him in the face, afraid that he may notice.

What he thinks or feels, I cannot tell. He is the same as he has always been, it's only he speaks to me a lot. And he laughs around me often these days; I am astonished to discover that he finds me very amusing. Sometimes he looks at me with that mischief in his eyes... in those moments that I swear, I feel as though I have to only reach out and touch - and he would let me.

Once, giving in into the urge, I put my hand over his on the table. We were having our breakfast in the Kitchens, and I was telling him the story how Hermione was Polyjuiced into a cat and had to spend the whole week in the hospital on Snape’s potions, while the Polyjuice ingredients were stolen by her from Snape's very stores, and Snape no doubt was aware of ir. We were laughing so hard that tears welled up in our eyes. In that moment of pure joy, I took his hand on instinct and squeezed it. He didn't start or recoil or anything; he just politely withdrew his hand in a few seconds, putting it on his lap out of my reach, not even ceasing to grin at me. He is like that, he puts the distance between us all the time. Always evasive when I am being intruding, never coming too close, never crossing the line. So I assume he doesn't feel _that_ way about me.

"You miss your friends," he said after that story.

"Yeah... I think so," I agreed.

"Maybe you should talk to them?"

"Maybe I should," I said, "but I think I'm not going to... you see... Ron will try to make me pick sides, and I don't want to, I'm sick of it."

He looked at me, as though weighing something. "Maybe he's not wrong. Some things you can't have both ways, you only have to choose."

"I don't want to!" I felt suddenly angry - at Ron, at myself. "I don't want to choose, and Ron behaves as though I've already chosen... What pisses me off is that he thinks he has the right to demand it of me."

"Maybe he does," Malfoy said, folding and refolding the napkin for the hundredth time, "he's your best friend."

"You are my friend, too," I said, and his head snapped up, "am I supposed to abandon you and never speak to you again? That's what he wants."

He sighed. "Look, Potter... I don't need your pity, if this is what it's all about."

"It's not pity," I protested, though deep down we both knew that's what it was at the beginning, the thing that had started everything in the first place, "it's not."

He shook his head. "I appreciate your help, Potter, I really do. It's so much better since..." he trailed off.

Since I dragged him out of the Lake, he hadn't said.

"But if you are here only because of that... only to keep an eye on the crazy fucker who may kill himself - honestly, don't bother... because in that case all this..." He gestured between us. "Is fake... and I don't care for fake; I am fed up with fake. For once, I want something for real."

He looked at me, trying to seem nonchalant, but his eyes were haunted, and I knew then, that for whatever reason I am so determined to stick with him, I'll keep an eye on him all the same, for I couldn't think what would happen, if he ended his life.

"This is real, believe me" I said, holding his gaze, "but... just so you know: don't you _dare_ and try to kill yourself again, you crazy fucker, I won't let you."

He laughed at that, and the tension was broken.

"Deal, Potter," he said.

**

It's almost Christmas, and in three days Ron and Hermione are going to the Burrow first, and then for a trip. The journey to Australia they'd planned long ago: to visit Hermione's parents who refused to return to England once their memory had been restored. It was a hard time for Hermione a half a year ago: not everything went as she planned, and their memories were only partially restored. One may say she'd lost her family to the war, too.

I don't know if Ron is returning to Hogwarts after the New Year, we hadn't had a chance to talk about it before our fight.

Apart from my goddamned house, I don't have anywhere else to go, si I'm staying here for the holidays. And so is Malfoy. It fills me with excitement and cautious anticipation.

I've received the Christmas invitations from Andromeda and Neville and Luna. I don't have one from the Burrow, I never needed it in the first place, free to come whenever I wanted. Molly obviously expects me all along. But now I can't go to the Burrow. The break-up with Ron (and now I think of it as a break-up) had cut me off from the whole family and it hurts. Of course, if Molly knew, she would tell me to come anyway, Ron or no Ron. But I can't do it. It would raise questions, it would make me explain things, it would make me justify my choices and defend Malfoy, and I'm not ready to face the whole family like that. I am not sure I have the right words to make them see my truth. Even if I had them, I am crap at saying the right thing, always have been.

I don't think I have the guts to say to Molly's face that nothing is black and white, that we all bear our losses and sometimes you don't have to pick sides, because whichever you choose - you are wrong. I don't think I would say it to her on her first Christmas without Fred.

At the same time, I will never forget Malfoy's silhouette in the sky, wings spread for a flight before black water swallowed him. I will  never forget his face when he was just about to strike me for taking the Mirror away.

How am I supposed to make this choice?

I think I should at least try and talk to Ron before he leaves, if only to ask him if he's returning.

It's Sunday and I haven't seen Ron and Hermione at all. Probably they've gone for Christmas shopping. Hermione always does it in a few days before the Christmas Eve. My throat squeezes, I miss them.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Malfoy approaches me in the Common Room.

I am sitting on the windowsill, looking over the snow-covered grounds. It's midday, and the bright afternoon sun makes everything sparkle.

"Nothing." I turn to him.

He is wearing a dark-blue pea coat, a high neck of a white woollen sweater showing from underneath.

"Fancy a walk? A snowball fight?" He grins.

"Sure." I grin back, sliding off the windowsill. "Give me a sec."

**

"Malfoy!" I shout, and the sound is wearing off among the trees. "Malfoy! You don't stand a chance!" I grin, but there's only silence in response.

When we stepped outside of the back door of the castle, the sun hit us in the face.

"Wow!" I looked around.

As far as an eye could see, up to the edge of the forest, everything was sparkling and white and pristine.

"Race you!" Malfoy blurted and broke into the run, leaving the trail behind him in the snow.

I ran, frosty air burning my lungs, chasing him across the grounds up to the edge of the Forest, where we collapsed into the snow and lay there, staring into the sky until our warming charms wore off. Springing on his feet, he offered me his gloved hand and I grabbed it, pulling him down.

"You dolt!" He cried, landing face forward into the snow.

He scrambled on his feet again, wiping his red cheeks, but his eyes were dancing with mirth. I laughed, gathering snow in handfuls, hurling it at him.

"Just you wait!" He made a snowball in his hands.

I ran among the treesband it hit me in the back. We chased each other with snowballs, playing hide-and-seek along the line of the Forest, and the sun was bright in our eyes. What a brilliant day. We should do this more often, I thought.

"Malfoy?!" I turn around. "Where are you?"

He is lurking here somewhere, preying upon me with a snowball in his hand.

The tree shadows on the snow become longer, I follow them with my eyes, breathing in clean winter air. Actually, we are not far from Hagrid's hut, just barely to the side of the back door. The smoke spiralles out of the chimney, rising up into the blue sky. I haven't been to Hagrid's for quite a while; I should drop in sometime and say hello.

"Got you!" A heavy weight crushes me from behind, black gloved hands covering my face.

Losing my balance, I dive face forward into the snow, and he follows me with a cry, landing on top.

"Fuck, sorry!" The weight lifts, allowing me to breathe.

My glasses etched into my face, I raise my head with a growl.

"Sorry, Potter, I lost my balance, get up."

Hand swims into view. My vision is blurred by the snow on my glasses. I sit up and take them off.

"Actually," I say, wiping my wet face with the sleeve of my coat, "all you had to do is take my glasses away, and I would be helpless as a baby."

Taking his hand, I let him pull me up.

"Here, give them to me," he says.

"Want to render me helpless?" I grin, handing him the glasses.

"Yes, for a second, until I wipe them. I bet you don't have a handkerchief."

He fumbles with my glasses, wiping them with something white, and steps closer. Looking me in the face, he puts them on my nose and adjusts them a bit.

"Good?" He lowers his hands.

"Yeah... thanks." I swallow, feeling the heavy thudding of my heart.

His breath comes out in white puffs, and his hair is wet, sticking in all directions. There is a piece of a snowball, frozen into the side of his woollen collar, just below his ear. My hand reaches up, and he follows its movement, turning his head to see what I'm doing. Digging my fingers into the wool of his sweater, I tug at the thing.

"What are you doing?" He asks cautiously.

"Just removing the ice from your sweater," I murmur and step closer, craning my neck for a better view.

My fingers don't obey me from cold, and I tug sharply, tearing the thing off. There - just below his ear and above the collar line - is the red spot, the mark where ice was etched into his skin. I lean forward and press my lips to it. His breath stops. I exhale into his skin and kiss again and again - light little touches, but they set on fire my blood. I feel the piece of ice is melting in my hand that I still hold as a barrier between us. I close it into a fist, resting it against his chest.

I am so shocked at what I'm doing, that I have completely forgotten that Malfoy is here - the whole Malfoy, not only this little part of his neck under my lips. So when his gloved hand closes around my wrist, I start and lean back.  His eyes are black - so wide the pupils are blown, leaving almost no space for the silvery line around. He puts his other hand on my shoulder. I look down: black leather against the black of my wool coat. Something green drops onto his glove from above - a tiny leaf. We both look up.

" _Mistletoe_ ," he says, cupping my face with his hands, and leans in to kiss me.

I don't know what to do with my hands, so I wind them around his waist. His face is cold, my glasses cut into my nose, but I don't mind. The pressure of his lips against mine is the place where right now my whole world resides. I yield, opening my mouth, and he responds, catching my lower lip under his tongue. It is hot and maddening, and I growl, pressing my palms into his lower back. His hand slides to cup the back of my head and he breaks the kiss. I open my eyes. He is staring at me, moving his gloved fingers through my hair. I smile at him, I cannot find words right now. I turn my face, pressing my temple to his forehead and exhale. I would gladly stay like this for the rest of my life.

My eyes follow long tree shadows on the snow... and Hagrid's tiny greenhouse... the disarray of his back garden... until they land on Ron and Hermione who stand on the steps by the back door, staring at us in shock.

"Shit," Malfoy says.

Hermione grabs Ron's hand and they quickly descend the steps and round the hut, disappearing behind its stone wall, and then reappear further up at their way to the castle.

**

**VII**

_So what are you waiting for?_

_'Cause someone could love you more_

_I'm just a lost boy, lost boy_

**** _[Troye Sivan, ‘Lost Boy’]_

Hot water is sloshing over my face, I bend my head down, allowing it to beat at my nape, pour down over my back and legs. I lean on my hand against the wall. _Fuck._

I feel dirty, I need to wash it away, to clean _him_ off my skin.

I don't know why or how it had even happened... but everything is falling apart.

I woke up at dawn to his hand on my cock sending tingles of pleasure over my body. I arched into his touch, sitting up. Before I could think, he straddled my lap, sinking down until my cock was fully lodged inside his body. _Merlin, it_  was like nothing I'd ever felt before. My mouth falling open, I threw my head back. Pressing my shoulders into the headboard, he began moving on my lap, rising and falling, his heavy breath hot over my ear. I took the handfuls of his arse and squeezed, guiding him up and down, feeling everything narrowing down to the place we were sharing between us. Going faster, he threw his head back, and I pressed my lips into the arch of his neck. His hard cock bounced against my stomach. I took it in my hand, feeling the ridge of the swollen crown under my thumb. He hissed, biting down at his lip through the little smile that played in the corners, and leaned forward to press our foreheads together. Crying out, I came, drowning in his eyes that were bright golden in the dark.

**

Last night at Christmas dinner, we were seated under bright decorations at the big round table in the middle of the Great Hall. Teachers and students who had stayed for Christmas. This except for me, Malfoy and Zabini included only a couple of the Fifth Year students. The dinner was excellent, wine was being served to those of age. I'd got tipsy pretty soon. Glancing at Malfoy across the table, I tried to fathom was he as giddy as I. He was smiling politely at something Professor Sprout said. It seemed he didn't drink much.

Things had got pretty awkward between us since that kiss. I cannot tell that he freaked out or recoiled, no... not at all. But as soon as we returned to the castle, he'd somehow withdrawn, distanced himself. I wished to be clingy and physical and show affection the only way I know how - to touch. But he, though not pushing me away, had become a bit evasive, so I felt my insistence was unwelcome and too much. And we couldn't do anything in front of Zabini anyway. I felt unsettled at the thought of Ron and Hermione seeing us; no way was I going to approach Ron after that.

Next day, we went on as before, as though nothing had happened, at least he seemed that way. I felt disappointed and frustrated, but what could I do? I wanted to bring the thing up, but was afraid to appear over-dramatic. What if it meant nothing at all to him? I would have made a right fool of myself. The only thing that indicated that something had actually happened between us, was the way he looked at me: as though we were sharing a secret, which others were not allowed to come close to. He didn't try to kiss me again, even when we were alone. And though I was dying to, I didn't try it either, afraid that it would be unwelcome.

Ron and Hermione departed yesterday morning, we didn't exchange a word. Honestly, I have no idea whether we'd speak ever again, or how would I even begin to approach the thing I myself only recently had reconciled with. I am afraid I've lost them for good. This is so fucked up.

I felt someone's gaze on me. Zabini, sitting between Madame Pomfrey and McGonagall, nodded at me and raised his glass. Accepting that tentative peace offering, I raised mine in response. My head swimming, I thought: it's Christmas for fuck's sake, is it not the perfect time to put aside any grudge, to turn the page and begin anew? I wished I could do it with Ron. Well...might start with Zabini at least. When the dinner was over and we were all getting up, wishing Merry Christmas to everyone, McGonagall came up to Malfoy and  beckoned him to the side. He followed; she said something, he nodded in agreement, and they left the Great Hall. Following them with my eyes, I didn't notice Zabini approaching, until he said: "Hey."

I turned. "Hey."

Swaying back and forth on his heels, with his hands in the pockets, he smiled at me. I realised that perhaps he was a bit drunk, too.

"You know... I wanted to talk to you for a while," he said, beginning to walk in the direction of the door, and I followed, "Christmas seems like a perfect opportunity for making amends."

"Yeah..." I agreed.

As Malfoy said, Zabini was easy to be around when he wanted to, and I was so fed up with that constant tiptoeing around elephant in the room. I'd gladly sort the things out with him once and for all.

We walked in silence all the way to our Common Room.

"Where's Draco?" He asked.

I shrugged. "Dunno... with McGonagall..." I was curious, too, and impatient for him to come back.

We opened the door to our dormitory and stopped, looking into the dark room. Close together in the doorway, our shoulders touching. Holding my breath, I turned to look at him and... I thought I caught a golden spark in his eyes in the dark... no, couldn't be... I'd had a bit too much wine.

Shaking my head, I stepped into the room and he followed. Not switching the lights on, I walked towards my bed, feeling his silent presence behind me. I realised my heart was hammering. I turned. He stood so close to me, that I could feel his breath. His fingers touched my hand, and everything changed.

I launched forward, crushing his lips and nothing else mattered. My skin sang with magic that was sipping from his fingertips, and I swear, the dark air around us sparkled golden. The touch of his lips on my neck made me cry out and I didn't care for what was before or after us, or for the world outside of the room; nothing mattered except for his _touch._  I found myself delirious and naked beneath his body; I didn't remember how or when it had happened, how we’d ended up on my bed. He removed my glasses, so I could barely see him at all, for his skin was the colour of darkness encompassing me. He whispered something in the language unknown, and his eyes turned golden; I was petrified. He bend down, saying _words_ into my skin, setting it on fire, and it felt exactly like in that dream, it made me arch and cry out again and again, and I didn't even know whether I wanted him to stop or proceed. He nudged my legs open, trailing his tongue around my navel, all the way down to where my hard cock was begging for attention. Without any warning, he swallowed it down, all the way to the root, and I jerked. I felt the tip hitting the back of his throat with his every move, I was so close... Propping myself on the elbows I looked, barely able to make out the outline of his silhouette. Only his hand splayed on my belly stood out in a stark contrast: black against my skin.

I felt his fingers reaching further and deep, and something happened, making me dripping with slickness in the place where no one has ever touched me before. The next moment the feeling of a finger slipping inside made me fall back into the pillows. He moved his tongue along the underside of my cock, up, up and over the head, and then sank back down again and sucked, moving his finger relentlessly inside.

"I want..." I choked out, gliding my hands over the coarse curls on his head.

I didn't know what I was saying, I just wanted it all. I felt him smiling around my prick.

When two fingers breached me, I gasped, for it brought the pain but with it a new pleasure, as he touched something that felt like the essence of all the joy in my body.

" _I want,_ " I repeated, and he knew what I was asking for. His mouth and fingers withdrew.

"I'll give it to you," he said, and I braced myself.

The first touch was exactly like in the dream - he was breaking me beyond repair, wrecking me beyond the point of no return. I cried out in pain.

 _"Don't fight,_ " he whispered.

I willed myself not to fight, gritting my teeth, letting him into my body - the feeling I waited for my whole life. He sank all the way in and exhaled, looming over me, his golden eyes the only thing I could fathom. I slid my hand down his side, over his buttocks and squeezed, pressing him into me even deeper. He moved, and I hissed, and he moved, hurting me again and again, until I couldn't tell where the pain ended and the pleasure began, or whether I could even tell one from another. I closed my eyes, giving myself to joy, realising only distantly that those cries filling the room must have been my own voice. I felt the hot splash of his semen inside which became my final undoing. I gripped my cock, feeling it shooting over my fingers, drowning beneath the wave that was rising inside me, until it crushed down, and I was dead.

**

Waking up for the second time this morning to his dark head on my stomach, I stared down at him, horrified at what I'd done. Last night's delirium had worn off, leaving me dirty and disgusted with myself. How had I let him do this to me? How had I forgotten my own name?

How would I be able to look Draco in the face after _this?_

Fuck _..._ Afraid to wake him,I gingerly dislodged his head off my stomach. How would I look himin the face after that thing I was going to tell him? I stood up. Wrapping the towel around my hips, I headed to the door. It stood half-open. I don't remember any of us closing it last night. Where's Draco? The thought made me sick. I went to the bathroom.

**

I turn under the spray and lean back, letting water beat down my chest. There is that soreness, that ache inside me, and I hate it.

Hate the thought of _what_ left it there.

Hate him.

Hate myself.

Hate the things he'd done to me. Hate my traitorous body for wanting it, for accepting him.

Hate that _he_ was the first to know me.

I never intended it to be like that. Not recently, not when... my face burns at the memory of my cries, of the desire I felt, of the sounds I made... the door standing open all night.

Switching the water off, I wrap the towel around my hips.

I don't want to go back into the room. I don't want to face him. Do I have a choice?

**

Closing the door behind me, I stay still with my hand on the door handle.

"Hey," he says.

Taking a steadying breath, I turn around. "Hey."

He is lying on his stomach among the sheets, his long lithe body reminds me a black panther resting lazily, sated after a good hunt.

An exquisite exotic creature, a work of art.

"Come here," he says, peering up at me with one eye.

And... _Oh fuck_... I come, of course I come.

He reaches out with his hand, pulling me to sit down on the bed near him.

I look at him, and he frowns. "What's wrong?"

Everything's wrong, of course he knows it. He's a Veela, for fuck's sake, he just _knows_ such things.

"Look, Blaise..." I begin, not meeting his eyes.

"You are freaking out," he says, "it's okay... come here."

He pulls me down to lie next to him, draping himself around me from behind.

"It's okay," he whispers, pressing his lips to my nape.

 _Fuck_... How am I supposed to say it? I feel like it's not at all what I thought it to be, it's something else... Something that makes the words stuck in my throat, for they are ugly words, I cannot say them. For they are meant to hurt, and I don’t want to hurt him. I am going to do it anyway.

My eyes prickling, I turn in his arms, and by the look on his face I can tell he already knows.

"Blaise, I'm sorry."

Not letting go of me, he winces

"I see..." His black eyes are liquid and old and haunted, with no hint of gold in them.

"I am really sorry,” I say, “I didn't think...but..."

His skin looks so smooth this close, unblemished, begging to be touched. I trail my fingertip along his neck.

"But it is not _me_ you want," he finishes, and I nod, shame flooding me.

"I'm sorry," I repeat for the hundredth time So as I should; it's not his fault that last night I was thinking with my dick.

"I thought," he says, "I might at least try. I thought if I made it good for you, maybe you'd... stay?"

"You did, Blaise... It was so good, you have no idea...but..."

"I really like you Harry, and I thought there may be something _more_ between us."

I stare at him, how on earth is this possible? What am I, compared to him?

"You are so beautiful, so exquisite, Blaise... don’t waste yourself on me..."

He smiles sadly, leaning in to plant a lingering kiss on my lips, and it is so perfect that my heart aches. I am not worthy of _this._ How am I supposed to walk away?

"Alright," he says, "I won't. Thank you for... your honesty." He sits up and throws the sheets aside, getting out of bed.

I look at his back, at the lithe muscles rippling beneath brown skin with his every move, until he walks out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

**

When I descend the Common Room staircase, it is ten in the morning.

"Don't worry," Blaise had told me, "I won't bother you. Just don't go all awkward around me, for fuck's sake! We can still talk to each other, be friends if you want."

And it was such a relief, honestly...

"Of course," I said, offering my hand, "friends?"

"Friends," he replied and tuged at my hand, pulling me into a hug.

I clasped him firmly, and he smelled divine. I banished these thoughts. "Friends."

The fire has died down in the grate, and there is a small heap of presents on the mantel. I come close. One box is for Blaise, card signed in elegant hand. The other four are for me: from Molly, Andromeda, Luna and... Hermione. There is nothing for Draco. I shake my head. I will open them later.

Turning from the fireplace, I stop in my tracks. He is right here on the sofa, curled into a tight ball, still in his clothes from last night; his black brogues are on the carpet. I sit down beside him, looking at his socked feet. He must be cold. I take the tartan quilt from the nearest armchair and cover him up to the chin. Sitting down at the foot of the sofa, I settle to wait.

Perhaps a half an hour passes before he stirs in his sleep and growls, turning on his back, and only then opens his eyes. Uncomprehending, he stares at me for a few seconds, and then his face falls.

"Draco."

Closing his eyes, he turns on his sife.

"Draco..."

"What do you want, Potter?" His voice is scratchy from sleep.

"How are you doing?"

"Brilliant." He jerks the quilt over his head. "Never better."

"Look... I mean... where have you been? What had McGonagall told you?.. I mean, you disappeared..."

 _Shit_... I am a bumbling idiot.

"And you missed me last night," comes out from under the blanket.

"Yeah... about last night... Draco, it doesn't mean anything."

" _What_ doesn't mean anything?" He tugs the blanket down  to look at me.

"I know how it looked, but I am sorry... it wasn't planned..."

" _What_ wasn't planned?"

_Oh, fuck..._

"Blaise and I..."

"Fuck off, Potter. I don't want to know."

"Anyway, I you should know there is nothing between me and Blaise." I place my palm on his foot.

He kicks me off. "Didn't seem like _nothing_ last night."

My face must be red like fuck. "Fuck, I'm sorry..."

"For enjoying yourself? Don't be." He throws the blanket aside and sits up.

"I wasn't..." I cringe, this sounds fake to my own ears.

"Oh, you were _not?_ " He bends down, reaching for his shoes. "The way you were screaming, it seemed like he either was  doing it very good to you... Or it was a fucking disaster, which I doubt you'd have survived." He gives me the once-over, I squirm under his gaze. "You're here intact, so I presume it's the former." He laces his shoes with jerky movements and stands up.

"Draco, I'm sorry... it’s over anyway."

He turns to me from the staircase. "You don't owe me anything, Potter. Don't deny yourself what you want." He begins climbing the stairs. "I wouldn't be able to compete with a Veela anyway. Not that I'm going to," he throws over his shoulder, heading up the staircase.

**

The rest of the day is a fucking disaster. Draco disappears, and Blaise is off to meet his Mother, leaving me to sulk alone.

I settle in the Common Room to unwrap my presents. Molly's green sweater and Luna's Dirigible Plum in a flowerpot make me smile bitterly. Andromeda sent me Teddy's framed photo: an infant with a tuft of bright torquoise hair. Just like his mother's on certain days. I swallow my tears. Only Hermione's present is left, and I am anxious of opening it. Does it mean she'd chosen it long ago and just sent it anyway? Or does it mean she'd been choosing it, thinking of me when we already weren't speaking?

There is a small box inside, I lift the lid. It is a short silver chain with a tiny rainbow heart attached to it. It is probably meant to be worn as a bracelet. I pick up the card: a photograph of several couples, standing on the bridge. I peer closely. There is a boy and a boy, holding hands, and a bearded man hugging another one from behind; there are two girls kissing, and two women standing with their heads close together, holding a baby in front of them; there is a woman at the front, two men planting kisses on her both cheeks. They are all happy, and they are all wearing a rainbow pattern in their clothes. I guess I know what this is about. There are words at the back of the postcard, written in Hermione's hand:

_‘Rainbow is made of every colour of Love._

_Happy Christmas, Harry.’_

"Thank you, Hermione," I whisper, squeezing the heart in my hand.

**

By dinner time my patience snaps and I open the Map. It takes quite a while to locate him, for he doesn't stay still. He is relentlessly chasing the corridors. _'Draco Malfoy'_ is moving quickly along the floors, up and down the staircases, down to the Dungeons and back up, until it leaves the castle, heading in the direction of the Lake. My heart makes a leap, and I spring on my feet. Retrieving the Cloak from my trunk, I throw it on, leaping down the staircase with the Map in my hand. Halfway to the Lake, I peer at the Map, finding him at the bench by the water, but he is not alone. The dot _'Blaise Zabini'_ has joined him. It is already dark, which is good, I don't have to worry about the trail I leave in the snow. I creep towards them, trying not to make a sound.

"Draco, come on..."

"Leave me alone."

"I'm sorry, okay? I asked you once, remember? And you said you didn't care."

"I _don’t care._ "

"You are ridiculous, why wouldn't you just admit it?"

"There's _nothing_ to admit, Blaise."

"Then why are you sulking out here the entire day?"

"I'm not sulking; can I spend some time the fuck alone?"

"As you wish." Blaise stands up. "But... just so you know: he'd dumped me for your sake."

"I don't give a fuck! Why are you even telling me this?!"

"Because you are an idiot, and someone is supposed to look out for you."

"Why the fuck is everyone babysitting me? First Potter, now you..."

"Because we care for your sorry arse?"

"Potter doesn't _care_... it's just I'm fuelling his Saviour Complex."

He doesn’t believe me, and I don’t know how to make him.

"You are an idiot, Draco." Blaise sighs and heads in the direction of the castle.

When he approaches the spot where I stand, I hold my breath. Passing me, he stops abruptly, looking around and smells the air, then smirks andresumes walking. I stand there for a long time, until Draco stands up. In the distance, I trudge behind him to the castle.

**

The next week up to the New Year's Eve is a total misery. Draco doesn't speak to me. I mean, he doesn't actually _not speak_ as such... He's just gone back to his ways of the beginning of our... - friendship or relationship or whatever. He doesn't ignore me, he always replies when I ask something, he is so freaking _polite_ , I want to rattle him. Gone is the banter, the spark, the laughter, his funny remarks and his sense of humour. He is just - flat. He's distanced himself, and I can do nothing to undo it. He is often just _not there_ , often disappears for the whole day, and only the Map shows me he wanders the castle or the grounds.

Blaise had left for the trip to Paris with his Mother, and maybe it's for the best. Even Hagrid is visiting his _girlfriend_ in Beauxbatons. I am on my own, and I am going mad. I went to Grimmauld a couple of times to see how Kreacher's doing. But the place gives me creeps, how in hell am I supposed to see it as my home? I ought to change everything if I want to live there, or fucking sell it and buy myself a house. But the thought of parting with the only thing that is left of Sirius is unbearable, and I can't bring myself to care for remodelling right now. It's easier to just avoid the place. Actually, Grimmauld is partly the reason why I returned to Hogwarts.

Sitting on the windowsill, I fiddle with Hermione's present. The tiny heart-shaped rainbow pendant. It is meant to be worn around a wrist on the chain, but I just keep it with me in my inner pocket. I smile sadly, this is so Hermione: eloquent and straight to the heart, nothing over the top. I had framed the postcard, keeping it on my bedside table. Was Ron there with her when she bought it, I wonder? I guess not. Is he returning? I have no idea. Fuck, I didn't send anyone any presents this year. I hadn't chosen them in the first place - didn't have time or mood or opportunity to do it. I am a shitty friend.

On the New Years Eve, I sit at the teacher's table in the Great Hall, sipping wine. Draco is nowhere to be seen. He is in the little inner courtyard, speaking to the Nearly Headless Nick - I've checked the Map a half an hour ago. I take my leave long before midnight, wishing everyone Happy New Year. When I come to our room, he is already in his bed. I undress in silence and slide between the sheets.

"Happy New Year," I say.

"Happy New Year," he replies.

**

When Hermione enters the Common Room, levitating her trunk behind, I wave at her uncertainly from the staircase.

"Harry!"

She launches at me, and dumbfounded, I squeeze her in my arms. Her curly hair tickles my nose, it smells flowery sweet and familiar, and _Oh how much I missed her!_

"Happy New Year," I exhale.

I grab her trunk out the air, dragging it up the stairs to her room, and she laughs. I am so happy, I can do anything right now, anything at all!  I want to jump and shout and whirl her around the room and be a silly child again, because she is by my side, she is here with me, and now I am sure everything will be alright.

It's only when we sit at her bed and she retrieves a photo frame to show me the photograph of her parents, only then I remember that Ron is not here with us.

"How's Ron?" I ask, my joy suddenly dimming.

"He's alright, actually, it's his first day of working with George. He's so excited, if only you could see him this morning..." she trails off.

"I see... good. I'm glad. I'm happy for him," I say.

The thought of Ron out there - happy and bouncing with excitement - makes my heart squeeze. Because I know how Ron can be when he is brimming with joy, how that radiance cannot leave anyone out... and now, not being allowed to share it with him, I feel as though the fresh air is cut off, and I sit in a dingy stuffy room as life is going on outside without me.

"Harry." She looks at me warily. "Maybe you should try and talk to him?"

"I should, and I was actually going to... until you saw me with... Draco... And now I don't think Ron is going to talk to me any time soon."

Draco's name earns me a _look_ , but she doesn't comment. I'd ceased to think of him as "Malfoy" for a while now...

"We talked with Ron, and he... actually what he said was that your life is yours to do as you please, and he totally understands, but _Malfoy_ is the only thing he wouldn't be able to stomach." She sighs. "I told him that apparently you have your reasons, but..."

"But Ron has his reasons, too," I finish.

"Yes. And so do I." She looks up at me. "Harry, I don't have to tell you... of all people, you are the one to understand. I won't try to make you choose, but... I don't think that I would ever be able to let Malfoy anywhere near me, no."

I nod. "That's fair, you have your reasons."

It stings, it hurts anyway. But at least, what she is actually saying, that unlike Ron, she is letting me have it both ways.

"But just so you know... He's changed," I say, "Hermione, he is so miserable, you have no idea... He is grieving for his Mother, he's so lonely, and he doesn't have anyone in this world. He actually tried to... harm himself." No, I can't tell her, I promised Draco not to. "I stopped him, didn't let him do it."

"I see... That's how your... relationship began?"

"Yeah... Sort of, but... there's no relationship," I say, feeling suddenly miserable.

She says nothing, so I continue. "Whatever you saw - it's over, because... I'd fucked up."

"You?"

"Yes... And now he wants nothing to do with me."

"Fucked up how?"

_Merlin..._

"He thought I was seeing another person." I wince.

"And were you?" Hermione asks.

"Sort of... At the moment - yeah... but..."

Her eyes widen. "Oh my God, Harry... What's been going on here?"

"You have _no idea_ " I mumble, and she bursts out with laughter.

**

**VIII**

_I don't care much for locks on the window_

_To keep me at bay_

_I’ll leave you one last kiss on your pillow_

_'Fore I fly away_

_Yeah, we knew from the beginning_

_That this wasn't never ending_

_Shouldn't stay too long_

_'Cause we're both too young_

_To give into forever_

_I say I wanna settle down_

_Build your hopes up like a tower_

_I'm giving you the runaround_

_I'm just a lost boy_

_Not ready to be found_

_[Troye Sivan, ‘Lost Boy’]_

It's so much more fun to have Hermione on your side! Why on earth did I ever want her to leave me alone?? We go to classes together, we have our meals in the Great Hall, we sit in the Common Room in front of the fire, poring over the textbooks. And everything is almost back to normal, sort of.

It's just Draco is almost _not there_. I am afraid he's getting worse again. I wanted to talk to him, but this time he actually avoids me. Ever since Hermione had arrived. He is never in the Great Hall; I check the Map to make sure he doesn't skip his meals. Half the time he does - I don't see him in the Kitchens. I even asked Blaise to talk to him about it, but he only shook his head. Draco doesn't speak to him either. In classes he sits alone at the very back, staring into the book in front of him. He never appears in the Common Room, except for his way up and down the stairs. In our dormitory there is that constant heavy silence, I suffocate there and often escape to Hermione's room. Sometimes he disappears after classes, returning only late at night. In these days the dot _'Draco Malfoy'_ on the Map sits unmoving for hours in the library. It's been almost a month like that.

**

It is Saturday, so when I wake up, it is already half past nine. Draco is still asleep with his back to me, and Blaise's bed is empty.

I dress quietly and leave the room. I knock to Hermione's door. She is ready, and we head down to the Great Hall.

The weather is brilliant and bright today, so we head outside straight after breakfast. Linking our arms, we walk all the way to Hogsmeade, stopping here and there in the bookstore and a few shops for nothing better to do. On our way back to the castle, we trudge through the snow slowly, throwing snowballs at each other. Once on the grounds, we knock on Hagrid's door to say hello, and of course spend another hour sitting at his table with giant mugs in front of us. When we get back to the castle, it is lunchtime. Dropping to the nearest bathroom to wash my hands, I take the Map out to check - it is my habit now. I don't think anything is going to happen between us any longer, but I look out for him, just in case. I find Draco still in his bed. It is odd. Maybe he's fallen ill or caught fever? I go to lunch, feeling uneasy.

When after lunch Hermione and I enter the Common Room, I dash up the stairs to the dormitory. Draco is in his bed, facing the wall, exactly as I had left him in the morning.

"Draco?" I say, approaching the bed, "are you unwell?"

He doesn't reply.

"Draco?" I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Draco?" I shake him, he doesn't move.

My palms going sweaty, I turn him by the shoulder, and he falls on his back, his head lolling on the pillow.

In horror I stare at his white lips, at his bloodless face that matches the colour of his hair. I grip his limp hand - it is icy cold.

Unable to encompass the enormity of it all, my mind shuts down. A wave is rising in me out of the depths, I must let it out. I open my mouth, and it seems to me at first that I am not able to make any sound, until I distantly realise that the roar filling the room is my own scream.

"Harry?!" Hermione is gripping the doorframe, wide-eyed.

" _HERMIONE!_ " I bellow, kneeling down by the bed, cradling his face between my palms, " _HE'S DEAD!_ "

She kneels down by my side, pressing her palms to her mouth. "No..."

“ _HE’S KILLED HIMSELF!"_

I gather him in my arms, so that his head rests in the crook of my elbow. Rocking him back and forth, I howl as a rabid animal.

"No... no!" Hermione springs on her feet. "We need help..."

She breathes deeply in and out several times, drawing her wand. At first few attempts, only thin silvery wisps erupt from the tip. She stops for a second and breathes again, closing her eyes and casting. Silvery Otter erupts, swimming in a circle around Hermione and disappearing through the wall.

I look down at his face as though chiselled of marble. My vision is blurry, tears staining my glasses from the inside. I let out a whimper.

"Harry... look." She shows me something in her hand. "He’s left a note."

A loud _crack!_ explodes in the air as McGonagall and Pomfrey appear in the room.

"Put him down, Potter, and move aside!" Drawing her wand, Pomfrey dashes to the bed.

I carefully lower his head onto the pillow and stand up, taking my glasses off to wipe them with the hem of my jumper. I put them on. Colourful spells are pulsing in the air over Draco's prone body.

"I am afraid we must take him to St.Mungos immediately, I can do nothing here. A combination of Dreamless Sleep and Calming Draught. Heavy overdose...and so much time wasted." She turns to me, regret written over her features.

"Potter," says Mcgonagall in a steely voice, "step aside."

I obey, and she comes up to the bed. "Madam Pomfrey and I are Apparating him to St. Mungo’s. You two follow us, you can do it out of this room for another half an hour."

She sits down at the foot of the bed, gesturing to Pomfrey, who slides her hand under Draco's head, draping the other one across his chest.

"On the count of three," McGonagall says, gripping his ankles.

"One, two, three!" They disappear on the spot, leaving only empty bed in front of us.

"Come, Harry."

Hermione grabs my hand, and the pull of her Apparition whirls us to St. Mungo's.

**

Tears are gathering in the corner of my eye under the glasses, I wipe them away and then take the glassed off, putting them on my lap.

Hermione squeezes my fingers.

"Mate." At my other side Ron grips my shoulder. 

I am blinking, willing to hold tears back; to no avail.

"I'm sorry," Ron whispers, pulling me to him.

I press my forehead to his chest, squeezing my eyes shut, and let out a loud sob. I feel Hermione leans into me at the other side, wrapping her arms around Ron, putting her head on top of mine, enclosing me in that protective sphere that is she and Ron together, that is shielding me from harm better than any Protego ever could.

By the opposite wall Blaise is sitting, silently crying alone, constantly raising his hand to wipe his face.

McGonagall and Pomfrey are here somewhere, too; they made them fill official papers, and there’ll be an investigation as well. McGonagall had gone absolutely livid when I told her it was not his first suicide attempt.

It's been for several hours now, I don't know exactly how long.

They told us he's not dead. Yet. He'd fallen into potions induced coma. As Pomfrey said - a heavy overdose of Dreamless Sleep, combined with Calming Draught.

If I had fucking paid attention and tried to wake him up in the morning, his chances would have been not so slim.

The Healers are working over him at the moment. All we can do is wait.

I blame myself - for not waking him up, for not paying much attention to how withdrawn he'd become again, for not telling McGonagall about his suicide attempt, for sleeping with Blaise...

His note is in my pocket...

_'I blame no one for my death. It is my own decision. The potions in necessary amounts I have stolen from the Potions Master's stores with the aid of a certain magical object that I once secretly borrowed from my friend, and which they have no idea I am aware of._

_Now, Potter, I am speaking directly to you: I know you will blame your sorry arse for my death. Don't. You have nothing to do with it. If anything, you've been a good friend to me those last two months; so good, actually, that for a while it led me to believe I didn't want to kill myself. However, as you can see, I was mistaken. But thank you anyway for your help and company, they meant a lot to me._

_Draco Malfoy.’_

I blame myself anyway. He’d fucking _'borrowed'_ my Invisibility Cloak right under my nose, and where was I not to notice?! I neglected him, and here we go.

The door opens, letting the Healer outside. Disentangling myself from Hermione and Ron, I spring on my feet.

**

"Draco." 

I kneel by the bed. He is sitting, propped by the pillows against the headboard.

They changed his pyjamas to the hospital pale-blue one, which looks horrible against his white face, bringing out the bluish circles under his eyes, making him look even more ill.

He looks at me tiredly, not saying a word.

"Draco."

I take his hand, it is warm to the touch, and he squeezes my fingers faintly in response, and his lips have gained back their colour.

"You fucking bastard," I whisper, tears welling up again. I rub at my eye under the glasses. "You'd fucking scared me... you have no idea how Blaise feels..."

Leaning forward, I press my forehead into his hip under the blanket.  _"Fuck..."_ I give out a strangled sob.

I feel the touch of his hand on my head, fingers carding through my hair. He begins to stroke me as though I were a cat.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

**

Next day I am being summoned to St.Mungos to answer questions about his first suicide attempt. McGonagall is present, too. I describe in detail what had happened that night in the Lake, even show them a memory. Then tell them about the Mirror of Erised and his _'meetings'_  with his Mother.

"Potter!" McGonagall snaps.

"Yes, Professor?" I wince.

"Sincerely, Anonymous? Honestly, Potter..."

"Sorry." I grin. I am finally able to smile again.

"I specifically asked Mr. Malfoy at Christmas, if there were anything bothering him," she says to the Mind Healer that has been questioning me, "he insisted everything was all right and overall he seemed quite lively to me, cheerful even."

"The boy has been diagnosed with  severe depression, Minerva," the Healer says, "I am absolutely adamant that he should be transferred to our department, as soon as he is released from  Potions Damage. There is the programme for such patients, which can last from two months to a half a year, depending on the stage of their depression. The combination of the potions course and Mind-healing techniques have proved to be extremely effective."

"He won't agree," I blurt, and their heads turn in my direction.

"But of course to undertake this programme he _has to_ come willingly. He is of age. We can't force him, it is illegal."

"And if he doesn't?"

Suddenly I don't like it that there are so many layers to that, that this situation, which I thought is dealt with today, turns out to be not the end, but the beginning.

The Healer spreads his hands. "I am afraid he is in danger of the situation repeating itself, if you say it is not his first suicide attempt."

I spring on my feet. "I'll talk to him."

**

"Draco, listen," I say, bracing myself for a fight, "I've been talking to the Mind-Healer... they say you have severe depression - that is what you have been feeling... They say you should stay here, in St. Mungo's for a while, to heal it. That is what you need right now. Otherwise, that state is dangerous for you, for your life and mental health."

I squeeze his fingers. I am on the floor, propping myself on the elbows against his bed; he is sitting in the bed, leaning back against the pillow. He looks down at me with an odd expression. His hair is dishevelled, he looks so much better today even in those ghastly pale-blue pyjamas.

I know his face intimately - every little detail - sharp features and soft eyes - it has become so dear to me in these short months, I don’t even know when it happened.

He shakes his head, and I am determined to make him yield.

"You are impossible, Potter," he says, "alright... if you say so... I agree."

I stare at him.

"I am so fucking tired of all that shit." He squeezes my hand in return. "I was so lost, and couldn't find myself on my own... And no one was looking for me. But now, maybe...  at least I should try," he says.

"I am looking for you," I say, "if you are ready to be found."

I press my lips to the back of his hand.

When he says nothing, I look up and see that he nods, smiling at me; and I think there is hope.

 ******* The End of the Part 1** (look for the link to the Part 2 down below) *********

_**I am on Tumblr:[big-draco-energy](https://big-draco-energy.tumblr.com/)** _

 

[ **_[Troye Sivan, 'Lost Boy']_ ** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvxWvQlLz1U)

_As the smile fell from your face, I fell with it_

_Our faces blue_

_There's a heart stain on the carpet_

_I left it, I left it with you_

_Yeah, the truth is that I'm sorry_

_Though I told you not to worry_

_I’m just some dumb kid_

_Trying to kid myself_

_That I got my shit together_

_So go get running, won't you hurry_

_While it's light out, while it's early_

_Before I start to miss, any part of this_

_And change my mind, whatever_

_I say I wanna settle down_

_Build your hopes up like a tower_

_I'm giving you the runaround_

_I'm just a lost boy_

_Not ready to be found_

_Not ready to be found_

_I'm just a lost boy_

_Not ready to be found_

_I don't care much for locks on the window_

_To keep me at bay_

_I leave you one last kiss on your pillow_

_'Fore I fly away_

_Yeah, we knew from the beginning_

_That this wasn't ever ending_

_Shouldn't stay too long_

_'Cause we're both too young to give into forever_

_I say I wanna settle down_

_Build your hopes up like a tower_

_I'm giving you the runaround_

_I'm just a lost boy_

_Not ready to be found_

_Not ready to be found_

_I'm just a lost boy_

_So what are you waiting for_

_'Cause someone could love you more_

_I'm just a lost boy, lost boy_

_So what are you waiting for_

_Someone could love you more_

_I'm just a lost boy, lost boy_

_So what are you waiting for_

_'Cause someone could love you more_

_I'm just lost boy, lost boy_

_So what are you waiting for_

_'Cause someone could love you more_

_I'm just a lost boy, lost boy_

_I say I wanna settle down_

_Build your hopes up like a tower_

_I'm giving you the runaround_

_I'm just a lost boy_

_Not ready to be found_

_(I'm just a lost boy, I'm just a lost boy, I'm just a lost boy)_

_Not ready to be found_

_(I'm just a lost boy, I'm just a lost boy)_

_I'm just a lost boy_

_Not ready to be found_

_***_

 

**Author's Note:**

> This work belongs to the series "Lost Boys" and is followed by the work "Empty Swimming Pools".  
> Thank you for reading! Feel free to share your opinions with me in the comments below if you want :)  
> Tell me how you came across this fic, I'm really interested to know!


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